A Journey through Molly's Diary
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: After a wonderful honeymoon, Sherlock decides it's time to start reading Molly's wedding present to him, a diary she has kept since shortly before they met. Enjoy Molly's backstory as they continue their "real" journey together into married life, even as Sherlock makes his own comments on the diary entries. Sequel to "A Honeymoon Journey". Reading prequels is better, not essential.
1. An Incurably Romantic Pathologist & Home

**Author's note:** Thanks to some wonderful followers of my stories who helped me to make the decision to write this diary from Sherlock's perspective. I began writing this in mid March of last year, following some positive feedback from people who said they would be interested in reading the diary, so it has been a long time coming. I have made several revisions along the way obviously, as I have worked on improving my writing technique, but I feel this is a truly unique way of progressing the storyline, because the reader will get to see backstory for Molly that dates from before she meets Sherlock, as well as watch Sherlock and Molly's continuing relationship beyond the honeymoon. I hope you will enjoy it and support me with your feedback as you read the chapters. I'd love to know what you think of my interpretation of Molly as a character as her diary progresses, and whether you enjoy seeing the glimpses of the continuing "real" relationship. This is the story from which all of my _Realizations of Love Dreams_ stories and Victorian AU's stem. As a result, publication of this particular one will not be as regular. When I reach a dream, I will give the readers some time to read the dream story first if it has already been published. If it is a dream that has not yet been published, I will publish that dream before I continue the diary. So bear with me, as this diary will take several months to reach its completion. In fact, I am still some way from completing it because of all the side stories I have been working on at the same time. I apologize for the long author's note, but I wanted to explain how this diary story is going to play out.

In conjunction with this story, I will be publishing another one (hopefully twice a week), a dream which takes place a few weeks after the birth of Sherlock and Molly's first child, which begins and ends in the "real" world, like my Victorian AU's do. I began writing that one last April and it has been sitting on my iPad for so long, I just wanted to get it published as it is complete, save for revisions. The AU dream chronicles a secret relationship between Sherlock and Molly that follows the canon of the series, but begins with them meeting at university. I hope you will follow that one as well.

You will see dates on this story. I have a specific timeline that ties into my other "real" stories that fall within the timeline, as well as the dream stories. So when a chapter segues into one of these other stories, it will be noted.

 **1/28/19** Special thanks to reader Elizabeth Robello for providing a a cover image for me of Sherlock reading the diary. A great birthday gift for me!

* * *

 **Diary of an Incurably Romantic Pathologist**

 **Tuesday, August 15, 2017**

Sherlock picked up the diary and fingered it lovingly. The title, hand-written on the front said, " _Diary of an Incurably Romantic Pathologist._ " It was so fitting. His wife, Molly, was a romantic through and through. She had to be, to have waited for him for so long.

This was his wedding present from Molly, and he planned to enjoy it, reading a little at a time. Molly had told him she had started the diary shortly before they met, pouring her thoughts and emotions into it. The bulk of the volume was her thoughts about her feelings for him over the years. She had warned him there was also stuff in there about Tom. After all, Tom had been her fiancé when Sherlock had been gone, but even then, Molly said she had written more about him, Sherlock, than about her former fiancé.

Sherlock was intrigued. To get a glimpse into Molly's heart this way - it was so intimate, yet so much the type of thing she would do. Molly was always so open and loving with him. She never kept secrets the way he had done, except perhaps the extent of her love for him that he had only realised after they had become engaged.

Molly was his anchor in the world, his soulmate. She had been the one to draw him to faith as well. He knew God's hand had been upon him for years, in the many things he had survived, and the many other things that had been revealed to him after he became a Christian.

Molly walked into the sitting room. She had been in the kitchen, preparing their dinner. They had only been back from their honeymoon for two days, so she was not yet back at work.

Noting the slim volume in his hands, she remarked, "So, you are going to start reading it, then?"

"Of course. I wanted to wait until we were back from our honeymoon. I didn't want any other distractions when we were getting to know each other properly," Sherlock said with a smirk. He reached over and placed the diary on the desk beside him, the extended his arms to her, inviting her to come to him.

Molly obligingly sat on his lap and put her arms about his waist, even as he enfolded her into his embrace. "This gift means a lot to me, my darling. The fact that you are so willing to share your innermost thoughts with me this way, it makes me love you even more."

She smiled at him. "I've always been open with you, Sherlock. Well, except about how much I loved you, and that was because I didn't want to frighten you away. I knew in my heart that if we were ever to be together, it would have to be you making that decision." Then her lips quirked, "Okay, save for the fact I asked you to tell me you loved me first. But that was only in reaction to you telling me to say it."

His arms tightened about her waist. "It was obviously God's timing, It was the right time for me to acknowledge it. That emotional breakthrough is what changed my life - our lives." He moved a hand up to stroke her cheek, then kissed her tenderly. "I love you, my beautiful wife."

"And I love you, my wonderful husband," she answered, reluctantly releasing her hold on him. "Well, you had best get to it then, while I keep working on dinner."

"Do you mind if I make a couple comments of my own in reaction to what you say?" Sherlock asked, removing his own arms from her, just as reluctantly.

"Sure," she responded with a nod. "I always used a new page for a new entry and there's usually plenty of room to write underneath. I'm assuming you want me to read your comments too, right?"

"Of course," he replied, patting his wife's knee. "If you are opening your innermost thoughts to me, the least I can do is reciprocate."

"I'll look forward to reading your comments then," she responded and got off Sherlock's lap to continue making their dinner as he turned to the first page in the diary.

Sherlock squinted at the words, then huffed a little. He needed to wear his reading glasses, and he had to get a pencil as well. He rose from his chair and went into the kitchen to retrieve a mechanical pencil from the miscellaneous drawer, using the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from his wife who was next to the sink, chopping up vegetables, and then he hunted for the spectacles, finding them on the corner of his desk. He returned to settle himself comfortably in his chair, perched the glasses on his nose and then proceeded to read from the beginning.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **July**_

 _Dear Diary,_

 _I don't really know why I am doing this. Well, actually I do. I had lunch with Meena today and she told me there's a job opening at St. Bart's, so I'm going to apply for it. I only graduated about a month ago. Yay, I'm officially a Doctor of Pathology. Meet the new Doctor Molly Hooper. *takes a bow* Dad would have been so proud of me. I suppose Mum would have been as well, if we hadn't lost touch, thanks to her alcohol problems. It's a little lonely when you don't have any family to celebrate with._

 _Anyway, Meena asked what I've been up to lately, and I said I was looking for a job, and that's how she told me about the opening at St. Bart's. She also asked me if I had a boyfriend. When I said no, I've been too busy studying to think about men in general, she rolled her eyes at me and told me I had no life. She said I should buy a diary and write in it, so that she could prove her point that I had no life. So I did, and here we are._

 _Meena also told me there is this guy who comes into the hospital at times to look at corpses from murders. She had mentioned him to me a long time ago as this guy who was finishing up his post-graduate degree when she did her first year. She warned me about him, says he is a complete arse and considers himself better than anyone else. She told me he turned her down for a date at uni too, so personally, I think it's a bit of sour grapes on her part. I'll reserve judgement on him until such time as I meet him. She did say he's really hot though, with this awesome curly black hair, so I am intrigued._

 _Apparently he calls himself a "consulting detective." If I meet him, I will have to ask what that means. Oh, and according to Meena, this job opening is as a result of the last head pathologist quitting, thanks to this guy. What's his name again? It's a funny name, one I have never heard before, something like Shirley, but not a girl's name. Oh, that's it - Sherlock - Sherlock Holmes._

 _Isn't that a weird first name? Maybe he is an arse because he was teased at school for his funny name and used that as a defence mechanism. But what do I know? I'm not a psychologist. Sheesh, I haven't even met the guy yet, so it's silly to be talking about him._

 _Anyway, that's all for now, I think. I guess I'll write more once I get the job, if I get it. Obviously I am not going to write all the boring details of my everyday existence or Meena will definitely think I have no life._

 _ **You are definitely right my love, you had no life - just kidding. But it was a half a life, until we met, at least on my end, because you are the other half of me, my darling.**_

 _ **My heart aches that you had nobody to celebrate with once you received your doctorate. I am so glad that things have been resolved with your mother and that you can share together once again.**_

 _ **I had no idea your friend had such a negative opinion of me, but I can understand why. I was cold and emotionless. But I still stand by what I felt about the previous pathologists. They were complete imbeciles. You were the first person I worked with who actually knew her way around a corpse properly.**_

 _ **You thought my name was funny? And Shirley - really? Now that is embarrassing. And yes, I did get teased at school at times, until I started fighting back with deductions about my classmates' activities when they thought nobody was looking, That stopped the teasing, but they hated me for it. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **July**_

 _Yay! I got the job! And with only one interview too. My boss, well, supervisor, Mike Stamford, who interviewed me, told me I have a stellar record and thinks I will be perfect for the job! I start tomorrow. I'm definitely thanking God for this opportunity, to find such a wonderful job immediately after graduation is certainly a God thing. Mike told me he wants me to work as the pathologist who deals with Sherlock Holmes. Apparently, my temperament might suit the guy (Okay, I'm sure that means I am the kind of person who likes to please everyone, but that isn't a fault, is it?) I hope he appreciates my work ethic. I do pride myself on being thorough. Guess I'll be doing post-mortems on a regular basis._

 _I need to practice some corpse jokes - maybe he will like that. Here's one:_

 _Q: How do you know a corpse is sick?_

 _A: It just lays around a coffin._

 _Okay that is pretty bad. I'll have to think of some better ones._

 _ **Yes that was a very bad joke. I seem to recall you telling me that, and I was just as unimpressed then. Mike made a wonderful choice in hiring you - remind me to thank him for that sometime. And wanting to please others is a wonderful quality, my darling. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **July**_

 _Well, I got to meet him today, Sherlock, that is. Mike introduced us. He was a bit stand-offish. He was kind of like, "Let me do my work and don't get in my way and we will work well together."_

 _So I guess I will just do that, and offer my advice if he asks for it._

 _Okay, so now I've talked about meeting him, I just have to say OMG OMG._ _Sherlock Holmes looks like he could have stepped straight out of one of my Barbara Cartland romance novels. He is the total package at least on the handsome scale and looks like a romantic hero any girl would dream of (well, one I would dream of anyway). I have to describe him to you, diary._

 _The man is drop-dead gorgeous, and I am definitely in love - I mean infatuated with him. He might be the arrogant type, but even my romantic heroes start out that way a lot of the time. Maybe I will be the one to change his mind. As if, I know I'm nothing special._

 _So now, the details. He's a lot taller than I am. I'm 5'3" and he has to be around 6' so he is kind of intimidating with his superior height. Ha, superior height, superior brain, superior manner - maybe there's a connection? The thing I absolutely adore is his black (ebony? raven?) hair. It is curly and falls adorably over his forehead. I can't tell you how much I want to run my fingers through that hair. I am sure it would be silky to feel. His cheekbones are really defined, as they talk about in my novels - very aristocratic. His lips are full and, may I say it, sensual. I'd like to trace my finger over them. Oh, okay, I admit it. I'd totally like to feel those lips on mine. I haven't been kissed in years. My lips are almost as virginal as I am._

 _Anyway, I'm getting distracted. What else can I say? Oh, Sherlock - I've decided I like the name, it sounds regal like him - he has this amazing, velvety rich baritone voice. Super sexy. And then there are his eyes. They are blue? green? I can't tell, maybe both. They are very intense. I could get lost in those eyes. Oh dear, my heart is thumping just thinking about him._

 _Diary, I can tell you these things, but I dare not tell Meena. She would just warn me about him and say I'm an idiot for even entertaining these thoughts about him, especially when she knows what he is like and that he is not into girls (or apparently guys either, for that matter)._

 _Well, I've only met him once, so these are just my first impressions. Perhaps I will change my mind about him later. I can definitely say though, if love at first sight was a real thing, this would be it for me. It will be interesting to see how we work together._

 _I'm going to go to sleep now. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to dream about him._

 _ **I don't understand why you thought of yourself as nothing special. You are beautiful, intelligent and have thee kindest heart of anyone I've ever known, my love.**_

 _ **So, you thought I looked like one of your novel heroes right from the beginning? I'm flattered, sweetheart. It is interesting reading about myself through your eyes. I've never thought about myself as being particularly attractive, but the way you write about me, makes me feel handsome. I'm glad you liked my looks, even if my personality left a lot to be desired at that point.**_

 _ **Your lips are very kissable. I think I am going to kiss them when I put this diary down. Perhaps I'll ask you to run your fingers through my curls as apparently you were longing to do even way back then.**_

 _ **Your line about "my lips are almost as virginal as I am" was quite funny, you are amusing when you don't intend to be.**_

 _ **So you decided you thought my name was regal? I quite like that.**_

 _ **And your comment about me not liking girls or guys - never guys. I'm a one woman man. Oh, you are calling me for dinner. I'll have to continue this another time. Looking forward to it. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../…/…/

Sherlock set down the glasses, diary, and pencil and walked into the kitchen and took the plates from Molly's hands.

"One kiss before dinner," he told her, "and run your hands through my hair, okay?"

So he kissed his wife's sweet lips and enjoyed the feel of her soft hands threading through his curls. Oh yes, he really took pleasure in it as much as she did.

* * *

 **Author's note 2:** I hope you will enjoy this new journey, as Sherlock learns about Molly's thoughts about him and responds to them. I hope too that you enjoy the beginning and ending scenes that take place outside of the diary.

As I stated in my initial author's note, I would love to see feedback from readers on this. Are you intrigued by the unique way I am writing this story? Your feedback is my "tip" for the many hours I spend in making a story fit to publish. Any tip is gratefully received, although I particularly appreciate the big tips where people respond to my questions and offer their thoughts on different parts of each chapter! When you decline to comment on the stories you read, it's a bit like saying "no tip for you!" So please give that some thought when you are enjoying the fruits of someone else's labours, (that means the other authors you read as well).


	2. Experiencing a Major Crush & Back 2 Work

**Monday, August 21, 2017**

It was a few days before Sherlock had the chance to pick up the diary again - days that had been filled with him and Molly continuing their honeymoon at home, enjoying their time together alone, except for the occasional interruption by Mrs. Hudson.

Their landlady would positively beam at them every time she saw them. She had been one of their biggest supporters and was absolutely delighted they had finally tied the knot. Sherlock and Molly had taken to locking the door of the flat to make sure she would not interrupt them in a compromising position. Mrs. Hudson insisted on bringing up snacks for them, "to keep up their strength," and the couple had to laugh at that. It was true they had been enjoying each other more than having regular meals, so the snacks did come in handy.

Molly had just gone back to work and Sherlock had finished with a client consultation, only a two, solved without leaving the flat; he almost felt guilty about taking the man's money, but the fellow had seemed happy enough with the result. At any rate, Sherlock had some free time before Molly was expected home. Taking the diary from the top drawer of his nightstand where he had deposited it for safekeeping, he went to the coffee table, retrieved his reading glasses and put them on. He seated nhimself comfortably in his chair, opened the diary and began to read from where he had left off.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **July**_

 _Well, it has been three days since I met Sherlock. Unfortunately I have not dreamed about him yet, but no dream could compare to the reality of his complete hotness, of which he seems to be totally unaware. Those curls of his, how I want to touch them._

 _Today, I was given a post-mortem to do on a murder victim. Mike told me to expect Sherlock to view the results, because he was investigating the case. I had just finished the autopsy, when the man swept into the room. That is the only way to describe it. He wears this long black coat and keeps the collar up, and he just dominated the morgue the moment he entered. He has an indescribably powerful presence, or maybe it is just me that he affects that way, I am not sure._

 _He went immediately to the body and started doing his own examination with his magnifying glass, peppering me with questions which I tried to answer as best I could. He seemed satisfied with my conclusions, even nodding a couple times and saying, "Thank goodness your powers of observation are better than those of the other imbeciles who used to work here."_

 _Sadly, he didn't even really look at me, he was too interested in the body. All I know is that I was VERY aware of HIM. I stammered a couple times as I always do when I'm nervous. I am sure Sherlock had no clue I was a real, live person. He could have been asking a computer for details with the way he spoke *Sigh* Maybe I'll try out a corpse joke on him next time. Perhaps he'll notice me a bit then._

 _Q: How many corpses does it take to screw in a lightbulb?_

 _A: None, you idiot. Corpses are dead and don't need light._

 _I know it's terrible, right? I am just not funny._

 _Perhaps I'll dream of him tonight - Sherlock, I mean, not a corpse._

 _ **My hotness? I'm still laughing about that. You thought I swept into the room?**_

 _ **I'm glad I complimented you, at least I did something right. And I did notice you, in my own way. But I did not need distraction from my work, so I did not wish to engage in unnecessary small talk.**_

 _ **Yes, that corpse joke was not funny - but your next comment about wanting to dream of me, rather than a corpse was! You're funnier than you think when you aren't trying to be, my love.**_ **XOX**

* * *

 _ **July**_

 _Damned alarm went off at the wrong time. I was dreaming Sherlock had just thanked me for a job well done. He moved in towards me and his lips drew nearer to mine, then BEEP BEEP BEEP. I must confess, I was tempted to throw my alarm clock at the wall, but I didn't. I'm a good girl._

 _I did see him again today. He wanted to take another look at the body from yesterday, so I unzipped the body bag for him to take a look. He seemed pretty pleased with what he found. Apparently it was the last bit of evidence he needed, or so he said. He said "Thank you...Dr. Hooper, isn't it?" At least he remembered my last name. I suppose eventually I will ask him to call me Molly. I can't help thinking of him as Sherlock, rather than as Mr. Holmes. Is that wrong of me? Oh well. I hope I dream of him tonight. It would be really nice if my dream picked up where it left off. Maybe if I just imagine he is about to kiss me, it will happen (in my dream I mean - I'm sure there's no hope for it to really happen). I'd really like to know what those full lips feel like on mine._

 _Stop lecturing me, Diary, I know I barely know the guy. But a girl is allowed her dreams isn't she? I know, I'm an incurable romantic._

 _ **Tut tut, temper, temper, wanting to throw your clock at the wall - and saying damned too. I am beginning to get an interesting picture of my sweet little pathologist. I have to admit though, I like it when you're a little naughty, like when we were in the jet on our way home from our honeymoon ;)**_

 _ **You were dreaming about me already then? You dreaming about me kissing you makes me want to really do it right now. I will make sure to make up for that interrupted dream when you get home, my darling.**_

 _ **In my defence, I only heard your first name mentioned once, on the day Mike introduced you to me, and I'm sorry to say I was not really paying attention until I looked up from the microscope. At least I remembered your last name. Remember how many years it took me to remember Greg Lestrade's first name? I was ahead of the game with you. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **August**_

 _Sorry I haven't written in a while, dear Diary. Work is pretty mundane most of the time. My life is mundane, I admit it. It seems rather like a black and white film, except on those days when Sherlock comes to the hospital._

 _Sherlock has been at Bart's twice more since my last entry. Apparently that previous case was solved by him. He viewed another body I did a post-mortem on. Turned out to be suicide, rather than a murder. Then, the last time he came in, he wanted to use the microscope in the lab to look at some specimens. He took that lovely coat off (it is a Belstaff, I was informed, when I casually said "nice coat,") and I had to wonder why he was wearing a coat in summer? Perhaps it is because the morgue is cold._

 _On this occasion though, the lab was quite comfortable. He was wearing a suit underneath - a suit! At least he doesn't wear a tie, but keeps his top button open. Yeah I know, I'm a bit too observant. He was wearing a lovely deep purple shirt too. I'd call it aubergine (I know that's a fancy word for eggplant, but it sounds much nicer using the French word). Wearing an eggplant shirt doesn't sound nearly as nice as wearing an aubergine one. I don't think wearing a vegetable sounds romantic at all. I wonder if he always wears a suit?_

 _ **Suicides are so boring. I'm sorry your life seemed so mundane. I suppose that is understandable when you spend a lot of time with people who can't talk back - as you can see, I am attempting some humour of my own.**_

 _ **And yes, it is not any old coat, my Belstaff is (okay my several Belstaffs are) my pride and joy. By the way, I used to keep the collar up to help keep my neck warm. In more recent years, it appears that people like to comment about that, so I have continued to do so to retain my image. Silly, I know, but that's the truth. And yes, the morgue is cold, hence the reason I wear my Belstaff when I am planning on going to the hospital to view a body - even in summer.**_

 _ **I'll tell you a secret - that purple coloured shirt is my favourite too - aubergine you called it? I know you like that one, and I especially wear it when I'm planning something special and romantic for you. You may recall, I brought it on our honeymoon. I may have to buy more shirts in that color - just for you, my love. And yes, I always wear a suit in public. There's no telling when I might be consulted for a case on short notice. One does not wear jeans for an investigation, it is simply not refined enough. Although I did wear those jeans for you on our honeymoon. They did elicit quite a satisfying reaction, I might add, especially during those picnics. But I confess, jeans can be uncomfortably tight at times when you are being tempted by a sexy little wife. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **September**_

 _I officially have no life. Meena was right. Time after time I have pulled out this diary with the intent to write in it, and realised there's nothing for me to write. I mean, how many times can one write, "I went to work, did a couple post-mortems, then went home and cooked dinner for myself?"_

 _Sure, I've seen Sherlock a few more times but things are the same with him. He's not unfriendly, nor is he friendly. He'll pop in during a case, take a look at the post-mortem results on a murder victim, sometimes have a look for himself with that magnifying glass of his. I'm always nervous he'll pick up something I missed. So far, so good. Mike tells me Sherlock must think highly of me, because he has never yelled at me or called me names like "incompetent fool" or other such terms he used to describe my predecessors._

 _I've tried running a joke or two by him and he has been rather unimpressed. What can I say? I'm a pathologist, not a comedian. I have to say, even though I'm very attracted to him, even more so than at the beginning, I am fascinated by his intellect. He really is incredibly brilliant. The way he can deduce so much from so little evidence constantly amazes me. One other thing I've noticed is his focus on finding the truth. He's a very moral man who wants to see justice done, so he has to have a heart somewhere. People who don't feel anything don't care about the welfare of others. Sherlock does. I wonder when I should ask him to call me Molly? What is the proper etiquette? In front of him I call him Mr. Holmes. Perhaps I'll do it soon - ask him to call me Molly._

 _ **My poor darling, you really had no life outside work did you? I had no life outside work either, but at least I had variety. And I did rather look forward to the times I had to go to the hospital to look at a body. I did enjoy working with you, even if I didn't show it. I just had to always keep my focus.**_

 _ **Thank you for noticing more about me than my looks. I am glad you saw more to me than that. Thank you too for your kind words about me being a moral man. I think my parents did a pretty good job in instilling those values - the difference between right and wrong. Now of course I know they had been praying for me over the years too. I have to wonder - did you pray for me too? Did you ever get to that point? I guess that I shall have to keep reading in order to find out. I am going to deduce something. I believe you did pray for me, my love. I don't know when, but I believe it to be the truth. The way you pray for others makes me sure of it. I still hadn't called you Molly yet? Perhaps I should have asked your name. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **October**_

 _Well, it took me awhile, but I did it. I asked Sherlock to call me Molly. And he said, "Your name is Molly?" It was so embarrassing. However, his next words were, "Well, if you want me to call you Molly, I suppose you should call me Sherlock." And he smiled at me. I think it was the first time he has actually smiled genuinely at me, Molly Hooper, rather than at the pathologist who assists him from time to time. His smile made me weak at the knees. He has an amazing dimple when he smiles._

 _Why does he affect me this way? I'm 30 years old, too old to have a crush, but there it is - and it is just growing stronger._

 _ **Ah, at last I got your full name. That was probably when I started to think of you also as Molly Hooper. That familiarity is probably also what made me start thinking of you as my pathologist. Little did I know that one day my pathologist would become my love, then my fiancée and finally, best of all, my wife. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **November**_

 _Sherlock Holmes has a beautiful mind as well as being a beautiful man. I know, it seems silly to call him beautiful, but he really is. There's a grace, and an elegance to him. And every time he comes to the morgue or stops by the lab to ask for my help, my heart goes pitter-pat. I still stammer around him sometimes. I can't stop daydreaming about him. I want to reach up and touch his lips with my finger, see if they feel as soft as they look. I go to sleep pretending he is kissing me - would his lips be warm and tender? Would they be hard and forceful? Somehow I just know they would be perfect._

 _I'm such a silly fool, aren't I, dear Diary? Pining for a man who probably wouldn't give me the time of day if he didn't have to work with me at times._

 _ **That word again - you insist on thinking of me as beautiful, but you are the beautiful one, my darling. Your inner beauty speaks to me as much as your outer beauty does.**_

 _ **I love that you thought of me, dreamed of kissing me. I hope my lips were everything you dreamed of. I'll have to ask that when you get home soon. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **December**_

 _Christmas is approaching. I will be working as usual. I hate to deprive people who have family of time with their loved ones. I have no loved ones to speak of. My mum and I have been estranged for years and Dad died when I was eighteen._

 _The other day Sherlock said something in the lab about hating Christmas and other holidays. He noticed the Christmas tree that had been put up in the hallway and that was what prompted the comment. Isn't that sad? I mean, I'd like Christmas if I had anyone to spend it with._

 _Yesterday, Sherlock stood in the doorway under some mistletoe that a work colleague had hung. I would have really liked to kiss him, but I was too shy. Maybe after Christmas I might ask him out for coffee, just to test the waters. He is always courteous to me, unlike some other people. He is a bit rude to DI Lestrade who sometimes comes into the morgue with him. I know Lestrade's first name is Greg, but Sherlock seems to have a mental block when it comes to his name - calls him everything from Graham to Gavin. I suppose at least he has the first initial right. Thank goodness Sherlock calls me Molly, in fact, sometimes he uses my last name too, Molly Hooper, and doesn't forget it. If he couldn't remember my name I'd never even entertain hopes of going out with him._

 _ **My sweet girl, willing to give up her Christmas for others to enjoy theirs. I had almost forgotten that conversation, it was tucked so deep in the Molly memories section of my mind palace. What an arse I was. How narrow-minded I was. This year I am looking forward to celebrating Christmas with you, understanding the true meaning of the birth of Jesus, and what it meant to the world - the birth of our Saviour. Perhaps by this Christmas we will be expecting our own arrival. I'd really like that.**_

 _ **I stood under mistletoe? We must hang some in every doorway this Christmas so that you will have to kiss me frequently to make up for that missed kiss. Of course, I do not intend to in any way limit our kisses to ones under the mistletoe. They will, of course, be in addition to the many we share at other times of the day - and night.**_

 _ **How embarrassing that you thought to write about my ignorance of Greg's name. I was truly pathetic. IHear the outer door downstairs. You must be home, and I am very anxious to see you. I missed my baby. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock set the diary and his glasses down and opened the door to the flat before Molly reached it, and was waiting for her. As soon as she entered, he took her handbag from her and pulled her into his arms for a very thorough, very satisfying kiss.

Molly wound her arms around his neck, and afterwards, asked a little breathlessly, "What was that for?"

He gave her bum a little squeeze and pulled her a tiny bit closer. "Because I missed you, and I feel like a hormonal teenager. In addition, "I've been reading more of your diary. I was wondering if my kisses measure up to the ones you fantasised about in your diary?"

His wife grinned at him, placing a gentle hand against his cheek. "You know they are more wonderful than I could ever have imagined them to be. Your lips are perfect, honey. I'm so glad we kiss a lot, because I think that is my favourite activity."

"Even more than making love?" he asked, with a seductive note in his voice.

"Well, almost," she managed to say, before he locked the flat door and tugged on her hand so she could follow him to the bedroom where they could do both.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I have to admit, I am enjoying writing some backstory for Molly that shows her relationship with Sherlock before the series began. Are you finding it plausible?

The "tip" box is conveniently located below. Please use it. It would make for a very nice birthday gift for me :)


	3. Black, Two Sugars, Please & Coffee Date

**Author's note:** Well, schools here were cancelled for the third day in a row due to first bitter cold/wind chill conditions and today for dangerous road conditions, so my kids are home. Makes it a little more challenging to get my proofreading done in order to get this published, but I managed. Other countries like Australia are experiencing almost record highs. Howl's the weather by you?

* * *

 **Tuesday, August 22, 2017**

Sherlock had had a busy morning, chasing down a criminal. Greg Lestrade had texted him early in the morning to ask if he could come down to the Yard. With the honeymoon officially over and Molly back at work, he really needed to get back into his own work anyway.

With a few deductions, Sherlock was able to discover where the man was hiding out and the criminal was successfully apprehended. So it had been a good morning's work.

Now though, he had some time before Molly got home to read a little more of her diary.

Reading glasses safely perched on his nose, he picked up the volume and went to the point at which he had left off the previous day. Sitting back comfortably in his leather chair, he began to read.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **January**_

 _Well, I did it - and I failed miserably. I finally summoned enough courage to ask Sherlock out for coffee. He came into the morgue, asking to see a newly arrived dead body. The man had died of natural causes, in fact, I knew him slightly, he used to work at the hospital until recently as a caretaker. We had spoken a couple times and sadly he had no family. I guess that's why Sherlock was given carte blanche to use his body to do an experiment on. Anyway, after Sherlock asked about the body, he gave me this little grin and said, "Fine, we'll start with a riding crop." I left him to it, but I watched from outside a viewing window. He seemed to rather enjoy flogging the dead man. It was a bit disturbing. I do hope he is not into "that" sort of thing. I quickly put on some lipstick for some "Dutch courage" and headed back into the morgue just as he was done with his weird experiment. I made a joke, asking Sherlock if it was a bad day, but he completely ignored it. Instead he informed me he needed to know what bruises formed on the dead man's body in the next twenty minutes because a man's alibi depended on it. I guess it was for another case._

 _Anyway, I decided to take the chance, while he was there, to ask him out. I had just started asking him, when he interrupted me with a comment about my lipstick. Okay, so maybe the real reason I applied it was because I was hoping he would think me pretty enough to go out with. Anyway, it backfired - big time. After I answered his question about wearing lipstick, I asked if he'd like to have coffee. His exact response was - "Black, two sugars please, I'll be upstairs." It was so mortifying! The man is oblivious to anything but his work I guess._

 _Although, when I brought his coffee he did notice I'd taken the lipstick back off. After all, no point in flogging a dead horse, right? Get it? Flogging a dead horse, Sherlock flogging a dead man. Alright, now I am just being silly. Anyway, he made a rather rude comment about my mouth being too small without the lipstick. I was hurt, but I suppose at least that meant he wasn't completely oblivious to me. At least he calls me Molly now. I do like the way he does that. But I should probably just forget about him. Sherlock Holmes is just not interested in me. Actually, the most embarrassing part of Sherlock making that comment about my mouth is that he was in the lab with Mike and some other guy, which made it all the more embarrassing. I wonder who the blonde guy was?_

 _ **What can I say? I was a self-absorbed arse. That day I was absorbed in the case I was doing. I wish I had paid more attention to you. I think I am going to have to make it up to you and take you out for coffee when you get home. Starbucks is just down the street.**_

 _ **Once again, I am sorry about the comment I made about your mouth. I don't know why I said it. I think I was just trying to show off how smart I was at having noticed you took the lipstick off - but hey, I did notice you, at least. Anyway, your lips are perfect. I love to cover them with my own and feel the way you melt into me when we kiss. You inflame me with your sweet kisses, darling. Oh yes, that was the day I met John, too. I didn't even think about the fact that I was embarrassing you in front of a stranger, that was a Bit Not Good, I know. It's very odd, I think of myself in those days and it is like I'm thinking of someone else, not me. I've grown so much since then. I was a 33-year-old who acted like a child.**_

 _ **And no, I am not Christian Grey from Fifty Shades Of Grey. I am not into physically abusing a woman, especially not you, my beautiful wife. Although, I might give you a love tap on your lovely little derrière sometime. I am more likely to squeeze it though. And those little delectable items we used on our honeymoon were definitely not designed for physical harm, unless you consider feather tickling while blindfolded and wearing velvet handcuffs to be a torment. I quite think I'd enjoy doing that again with you. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **February**_

 _Guess what? I went out a week ago and got a cat. Yes, despite the fact I have a cat allergy, I love cats. It's okay though, a little bit of antihistamine does wonders to alleviate the allergic symptoms and it is so worth it._

 _Diary, I can admit to you what I would never tell anyone else - I'm lonely. I persist in having this infatuation with Sherlock, which is never going to go anywhere, but it spoils me from being with anyone else. Every man I meet, I mentally compare to Sherlock. Either he is too short, or his hair is the wrong colour, or it is, heaven forbid, straight, rather than curly. Or the guy dresses too casually and just looks sloppy. Of course, I'm one to talk. I never dress up myself. I'm sure I would look completely mousy against someone like Sherlock Holmes. I should not project these unrealistic expectations on other men, just because I can't have an Adonis for myself. It's not like I'm anything special to look at. As Sherlock said, my mouth is too small. I also don't have a curvy figure that men would go ga-ga over. I know my own limitations._

 _But I am the way God made me, so I should be happy with that. Sometimes though, I just wish God had graced me a teensy bit more in the looks department. Oh well, back to Toby._

 _Toby is wonderful and has settled in so quickly at my flat, after the first two days where he hid under the sofa except for when it was time for him to eat or go to the toilet. He sleeps next to me on my bed and keeps me company at night, he is there for me when I come home from work and is meowing, waiting to be fed. He's a tabby cat (hence the name Toby because it is close to tabby). He is affectionate too, I will most likely grow old and be a cat lady, as long as my allergies don't preclude me from having several. I just don't think there is anyone out there for me. Sometimes I wish I had never met Sherlock Holmes, because I've set the bar too high for anyone else to even come close to him. Any other man would need a pole vault to get over that bar, on which Sherlock sits, waving casually at his inferiors. I'm still in awe of his intellect as well as his looks. My heart skips a beat (or three) every time he turns up and I feel myself blush, wondering if I'm completely transparent to him._

 _By the way, that blonde man, the stranger I mentioned in my last entry, well, he's now Sherlock's flatmate. Sherlock mentioned it, after that case of the serial suicides, which Sherlock determined to be murders instead, was wrapped up. He said the guy is now his flatmate and sort of his assistant. What I wouldn't give to be able to see Sherlock every day like that. I'm a little envious of the flatmate, I must admit._

 _And here I go again, rambling on about Sherlock, rather than Toby. I'm a mess._

 _ **I'm glad Toby was able to comfort you and keep you company. I still feel bad that he ran away soon after my "funeral." I didn't try to make him like me, he just seemed to. I remember him winding his way around my ankles and almost tripping me several times during those days I spent using your flat as a bolt-hole before I left London. He kept sleeping on the bed too - usually on top of me. I guess that was because I slept in his usual spot. I am rather glad we do not like the same side of the bed to sleep on. Of course, most of the time we are pretty much in the middle, when I have you wrapped in my arms at night.**_

 _ **You compared other men to me? Why couldn't I see what was in front of me when you could see what was inside of me? You thought I looked like Adonis? Well, you are my Venus, my Aphrodite - depending on whether you prefer the Roman or Greek word. If I wasn't a Christian, I'd venture to say you are a goddess. Suffice to say, God made you for me. And you are NOT at all lacking in the looks department, by beautiful wife. When you give me that adorable dimpled smile of yours, you make my heart skip a beat or three as well. I'll admit, your crush on me was noted, and you know I used it against you at times, much to my shame and embarrassment now.**_

 _ **You - a cat lady? Never. You're MY lady.**_

 _ **How interesting that you were envious of John being my flatmate. Did I ever tell you when I was showing him the flat, Mrs. Hudson asked if we'd be needing two bedrooms? No idea why she thought I was gay. Perhaps because John was the first person she had seen me interact with besides Lestrade. Thank God she finally got that notion out of her head and knows the only person I've ever wanted to be with is you.**_

 _ **I'm finding this diary very illuminating, reading just how much you cared about me, even if, by your own words, it was an infatuation at first. Now it is an all-consuming love between both of us. I burn for you, Molly, only you. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **March**_

 _Life has been a bit more fun now that I have Toby, but it is still just routine. I get up, feed my cat, go to work. Then I come home, feed my cat, watch the telly for awhile and go to bed. I do have one favourite tv show I don't like to miss. It's from America and is called, "The Big Bang Theory." It's funny, the title would normally make me shy away from it. After all, I'm a Christian and I believe God created the universe, rather than the one in a million billion to the umpteenth power of it happening by chance. But the show is very funny. Maybe I like it so much because Sheldon reminds me of Sherlock. They even share the first three letters of their name. Sheldon is very socially awkward, like Sherlock - not the best conversationalist. Sherlock is a much nicer name though._

 _Why do I keep bringing my one-sided conversation back to Sherlock? If he knew how much he dominates my thoughts I'd be so embarrassed. I'd never be able to look him in the eye again._

 _I just made up a joke._

 _Q: What do you call a corpse wrapped in a duvet?_

 _A: A dead spread._

 _Okay, I'm apparently awful at making up jokes._

 _ **It is interesting how long you have been watching that show. As I've now watched it at times with you, I have to admit, I too see the parallels between Sheldon and my old self. But even he has softened over the years. And I have beaten him now, I married you first while he is still just engaged to Amy. Next project, make a baby first. Oh, and I'm glad you prefer my name to Sheldon. Sheldon Holmes just doesn't have the same ring. Oh, and I really like the way you say my name, the way it flows from your lips.**_

 _ **Speaking of lips, I want to kiss yours, and I hear you downstairs. I thought your joke wasn't too bad, you're improving, sweetheart. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock tossed the reading glasses onto his desk, put the diary down and went to the door, as he had done the previous day.

As soon as Molly reached the top of the stairs he took her arm and marched her right back down the stairs.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed, turning to look at him in bewilderment, "Where are we going? What are you doing?"

"We're going to walk to Starbucks and have that coffee date you asked me for all those years ago," he informed her.

"Oh, you've been reading again," she remarked, blushing a little. "Do you think I was ridiculously infatuated?"

Sherlock linked his fingers with hers as they walked along the street. "Yes, but it was with me, so that's okay. It might have started that way, but it didn't end that way, my darling," he responded with a grin.

They enjoyed their coffee date, looking lovingly into each other's eyes the whole time. Then they walked back home, enjoying the warm day. For once, Sherlock had left his coat at the flat.

"Did you enjoy our little date?" Sherlock asked Molly once they were back inside the flat.

"Of course I did, but you would not have looked at me that way all those years ago," she pointed out, as she watched him lock the door. "This was much more satisfying. Thank you, honey."

Sherlock reached for her hand. "You'll have to read my comments in your diary too sometime. For now though, would you like a glass of water and a headache tablet?"

"A headache tablet? I don't have a headache," Molly said in some confusion.

"Oh good," said her husband silkily. "Then you will have no objection to me doing this."

He kissed her, tasting the sweetness that lingered from the caramel frappuccino she had enjoyed during their coffee date. He then picked her up in his arms to carry off his prize to the bedroom, as Molly laughed the whole way.

 **Author's note 2:** The last few lines of dialogue in this chapter are paraphrased from a commercial I saw many years ago in Australia and thought hilarious. There was an old running joke many years ago that women would always plead a headache if they wanted to put off the loving attentions of their husbands. I have no idea if the younger generation even knows that. It would be interesting if some of my readers would share their thoughts on that. Anyway, I just had to put in the headache thing here from a commercial for Panadol I think (Australian equivalent pretty much of acetaminophen). I thought was really funny. Hope you enjoyed Sherlock doing that to Molly!

Oh and the joke Molly wrote in her diary, I did make that one up!

As you can see, we have reached the point in the diary where I will start including what happens during the series canon. I had to include the Toby stuff after reading Molly's blog, and I tried to fit it into my timeline.


	4. Not so Clueless, Really & Positive News

**Friday, August 25, 2017**

It was Friday, the end of Molly's first week back at work and Sherlock was smiling. He had just got off the phone with her. A few minutes earlier she had sent him a text with a picture of a pregnancy stick showing two pink lines. She had put a happy face emoji beneath the photo.

It seemed remarkable that a few months ago he was a solitary man who considered himself married to his work. He had not realised he was lonely. His life had followed an ordered pattern of solving cases, spending time with his friend John and goddaughter Rosie. Molly was a dear friend, nothing more - until Sherrinford.

Once Sherlock had realised he was in love with her, he hadn't wasted any more time, marrying her within three months. He was forty, after all, and it seemed unnecessary to wait an extended period before tying the knot, not only due to their ages, (and commitment to wait for the wedding night to be intimate, which was most definitely a struggle at times), but their long-standing friendship as well. That friendship had certainly been tested over the years, first with his two year absence, then her engagement, and after that, his battle with drug addiction that had almost cost him his life. Despite it all, their friendship had persisted, and Molly had woven herself indelibly onto his heart strings, then pulled them tightly in her direction during that forced love confession, and he was forevermore lost in her, lost _to_ her.

Now they had a baby on the way, conceived on their honeymoon and the detective couldn't be happier.

He decided he would pick Molly up after work and take her to Angelo's for a celebratory dinner. First though, he'd need to buy her some flowers to surprise her.

For now, it was too early to go to the hospital, so Sherlock ate the sandwich Molly had so thoughtfully made for him for lunch. She had told him he was not to skip meals anymore, and if that meant she had to get his lunch ready, as if he was her child, she would do so. That alone was enough to convince Sherlock that Molly would be a wonderful mother, when the time came. He, in turn, did the few dishes that had accumulated in the sink, and tried to do some tidying up around the flat, putting various papers and notes about cases in order on his desk neatly. He then retrieved Molly's diary to do some more reading, and to comment on it. He was enjoying doing this a little at a time.

Reading glasses on as usual, Sherlock opened the diary to where he had left off a few days earlier.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **March**_

 _Well, today was an interesting day. I haven't seen too much of Sherlock lately, but he turned up right behind me in the canteen and engaged me in some small talk about the food. Here's the thing - Sherlock does not engage in small talk for the sake of it. He always has a reason for things he says. He made a comment about wanting to examine the bodies of a couple men, who happened to be ones I had performed the post-mortems on._

 _But oh, Sherlock had to flirt with me, yes he FLIRTED with me. After he asked if he could see the bodies and I told him the paperwork had gone through, he noticed I had changed my hair. I thought I'd try something different today, giving it an off-centre part. He said my hair suited me better that way. Now I'm not stupid, I know very well he was just flirting to get his way, but that sexy smile he gave me was enough to make me willing to do whatever he wanted. I know, I'm putty in his manipulative hands. To be honest, I doubt anyone could resist a charming Sherlock._

 _Of course, I wheeled out the bodies. Sherlock just wanted to look at the men's feet. I had notated the tattoos on their feet too. Apparently, from what Sherlock said to the man who was accompanying him, the tattoos were significant. It was rather strange to see Sherlock with someone other than Lestrade._

 _So there you have it, Diary. I'll admit it. I am easily manipulated when Sherlock wants something from me - that smile, those lips, that hair. Just thinking about him makes me want to see what he would do if I suddenly threw my arms around him and kissed him. But I would never do that. He'd probably push me away in disgust and demand my resignation from the hospital, so I'll just enjoy the little time we have together._

 _ **My darling, you did look very attractive that day. I wasn't lying when I said it suited you. I know I used a little manipulation in order to get what I wanted, and I'm sorry if that hurt you. Thanks to you though, I was able to prove the two men were connected, and eventually solve the case. I wonder what I would have done if you had kissed me. I know I would not have been emotionally stable enough at that time to deal with a relationship, but your sweet lips feel so good on mine. Maybe it would have made me think about things a bit more. I wish I could kiss you right now. I'm finding it a bit hard to concentrate on these diary entries. I'm just so overwhelmed with emotion. We're having a baby, Molly - a baby! Sorry, that has nothing to do with replying to your entries, I'll try to concentrate better XOX.**_

 _ **April**_

 _Well, dear Diary, you should be proud of me. I decided it was time to move on from my infatuation and accept an invitation from a guy to go out. His name is Jim and he told me he works in IT, although I've never seen him actually on the job, he just pops in to see me. I'm flattered. Jim told me he had noticed me one day and knew he wanted to ask me out._

 _Shhh, don't tell anyone, Diary. I may be going out with Jim for ulterior motives. To be honest, I'm not really attracted to him, but I do kind of wonder how Sherlock will react when I tell him I'm seeing someone. Perhaps I'm not really moving on after all._

 _ **Uh oh, here comes Moriarty. I'm very glad you were not serious about him. He was a true psychopath, while I was only a high-functioning sociopath**_ ** _with his number (literally). See, I can make jokes too XOX._**

 _ **April**_

 _So today it happened kind of by accident. I knew Sherlock was in, working on some case, and I had just made plans to meet up at "The Fox" after work with Jim for a drink. I wasn't really expecting Jim to follow me into the lab, but he did, and then of course I had to introduce him to Sherlock. I made a flip comment about "office romance." Then Sherlock had the nerve to say Jim was gay, under his breath. It was totally embarrassing._

 _After Jim left, Sherlock proceeded with his impressive deductions on why Jim was gay, including the fact that he left his number under a dish for Sherlock. I was totally mortified. I suppose Sherlock thinks I'm so unattractive I can't even get a straight guy to look at me. Why did Sherlock have to look so gorgeous in that aubergine shirt again too, when I was trying to behave like a woman attracted to someone else? I have to wonder though, if he's right about Jim. Why on earth did Jim ask me out in the first place if he isn't really interested in me? Well, I need to get ready for this third date (the first two were just coffee dates)._

 _ **I know it was pretty mean of me to be so blunt with you about "Jim" but I was really trying to save you some heartache. By this time I did consider you a friend, and I did not relish the idea of you getting hurt. Was I a little jealous of him in hindsight? I don't know, maybe. You were my pathologist, after all. I did not want to share you.**_

 _ **Oh, and after you left the lab, I did feel a bit ashamed of myself, especially when John pointed out to me how rude I was. I'm so sorry I hurt you love, XOX.**_

 _ **April (same night)**_

 _Well, I broke it off with Jim. Sherlock was obviously right. The entire time we were at the pub he was asking questions about Sherlock, how often he came to the hospital, what he did there and the like. I suppose he just wanted to use me, knowing I work with Sherlock on occasion, so that he could get closer to him. Well, good luck, Jim! Maybe you'll have better luck with him._

 _ **You never told me Moriarty was asking questions about me. It makes sense that he knew so much about me, not that I blame you in the least, my love. but dear God, you really thought I could be gay? Nothing could have been further from the truth. Despite Mrs. Hudson's silly notions, I have never been attracted to a man. I'm a red-blooded male, attracted to only one woman - you XOX.**_

 _ **April**_

 _Well, just as well I broke it off with Jim. Turns out he is some kind of psychotic criminal mastermind (according to Sherlock). I suppose I have to believe that, because John, Sherlock's friend, confirmed it. Have I told you about John? I think I've only mentioned him in passing before. John is really nice, level-headed. He seems to balance Sherlock's manic behaviour quite well. He seems normal. I'm not saying Sherlock is abnormal exactly, just that he's not normal in the way you would consider normal. I wonder what has made him into such a cold person, who seems to lack the usual emotional responses? Does he have a heart somewhere? He must have. I wish I could melt that frozen exterior._

 _ **By this time you know I was completely right about Moriarty. I am very glad he is gone. It still amazes me how long after death he was able to plague me.**_

 _ **Oh, and darling, perhaps you weren't melting my heart yet at that point, but you were chipping away at the ice that encased it. Like I said, I did feel protective of you, so that means I had some emotions where you were concerned, even if I wasn't aware of it at the time XOX.**_

 _ **May**_

 _Well, I don't have much to talk about right now. The only excitement I get in my life is when Sherlock sends me texts, asking if he can get extra body parts. Sometimes I might text him if I have a John Doe, or someone who donated their body to science, or someone who is to be cremated. Sherlock has his own equipment at the flat. I've seen it. I popped over there recently. He keeps his stuff on his kitchen table to do his experiments, it's like a mini-lab. Most unsanitary._

 _Where does Sherlock eat, I wonder? And what does he eat? He told me to put the heart I'd brought for him into the fridge. Quite disgusting. I don't know how John lives with that. If I lived there, I'd insist on a separate fridge for body parts._

 _ **I guess I never seriously thought about how an outsider might perceive the flat. I really was obsessed with my experiments back then. They gave me something to do when I was between cases. The fridge thing was not much of an issue. John and I pretty much ate take-away, as you know, or Mrs. Hudson fed us. There was not much food in the fridge. Much different now. No body parts in our fridge at all, only food, and it will stay that way XOX.**_

 _ **June**_

 _I've popped over to Baker Street a couple times now with various things for Sherlock. Even brought him a collection of thumbs. I've got to know Mrs. Hudson a bit. She's Sherlock and John's landlady. She seems very nice, but she does tend to complain about a bad hip each time I pop in. She is always the one who answers the door. I guess it's easier because her flat is on the ground floor. I also get the feeling she likes to know what is going on. I think she quite likes me too, probably because she seems very protective of Sherlock. I'm probably his only female friend - if you could even consider us friends._

Oh Sherlock, why can't I get over you?

 _ **Finally, someone who understands why I let her answer the door! Going up and down the stairs to let clients in is just not practical. Like you said, she likes to know what is going on anyway, so I really think she rather enjoys it, despite her grumbles.**_

 _ **You are my constant, Molly. I've been sitting here daydreaming about you ever since I read those lines about not getting over me. Thank God you hung in there for me (well, except for Tom, but I don't blame you for trying to move on when I'd been absent for two years). Don't think I didn't notice that you never tried to see any other man after you ended your engagement. My poor darling, I put you through so much, and I have so much to still read in this diary XOX.**_

 _ **June**_

 _Today has been a rather sad, reflective day for me. It's the 13th anniversary of my dad's death. I don't know where the time has gone and I will never stop missing him. I took out the purity ring he gave me for my 16th birthday and looked at it. I feel a little guilty that I didn't continue to wear it after I had been at university for a few months. I just got tired of all the teasing and comments about me being a virgin, or questions on whether I was going to be a nun. I know the ring was intended to be an outward statement of my commitment to remain a virgin until my wedding night, and I hope that Dad understands from heaven why I stopped wearing it. He was so proud of me. I still remember his exact words that day. "I'm so proud of you, Molly. You are becoming a young woman, and one of whom your mother and I are so proud." At this rate, I will die a virgin anyway. Perhaps I should become a nun after all. Too bad I'm not Catholic haha._

 _I hope you're still proud of me, Daddy._

 _ **Oh sweetheart, you never told me you had a purity ring, but I have to say I'm not surprised. Do you still have it, I wonder? You know that your dad is proud of you and that he is looking down on you from heaven. You've made good choices, Molly, and I know if he were here he would tell you that himself. One day we will tell our children about that ring, and how you honoured God with your commitment. I pray that because of your example (and mine I suppose, although obviously my virginity was not as a result of a deep faith, at least not until we were already together), our children will feel the same way, and wait for that special person too.**_

 _ **And there you go again, inserting your own unique brand of self-deprecating humour about becoming a nun, then lamenting the fact that you are not Catholic. I love your unintended wittiness, my love XOX.**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock put the diary down and checked his watch. Good timing. He had enough time to go and buy some flowers, then meet Molly at the hospital to surprise her. Oh, how he was going to kiss her when he saw her. His wife, mother of a tiny life that had begun to grow inside her that they had made together; a baby they had conceived in love on their honeymoon, because they had remained faithful to the intent of the purity ring Molly had never told him about before. He was going to enjoy asking her about that.

* * *

 **Author's note:** If you are interested in finding out how Molly went about her pregnancy test, I will be publishing the first chapter of a new story, "A Pregnancy Journey" before I move on to the next chapter of this diary. Do you think you will follow that one as well? I will only update that one periodically as it coincides with the timing of the diary. Don't worry, the next chapter of this story will be coming soon.

Do you feel that Molly was aware of the fact that Sherlock was manipulating her affection for him? I think she is too smart to not have known that. How about her flirtation with Jim from IT? Do you think she was sincerely interested in him? As you can see by what I have written, my head canon says that she was just trying to gauge Sherlock's reaction and was not seriously interested. Jim doesn't look remotely like Sherlock and doesn't seem her type. She was probably flattered by the attention, though, and I also think she was lonely. Having an unrequited affection for someone is not fun!

Turn your reading experience into an interactive one rather than a passive one and offer your own thoughts and head canons. I love hearing what other people think!

Don't forget to click on those follow/favourite buttons if you want to publicly show your support for my writing. I'd appreciate that a lot!


	5. Christmas party Heartache & Purity Ring

**Saturday, August 26, 2017**

The following day, Sherlock walked into the kitchen in the afternoon and took Molly's hand, then led her to the sofa. He indicated for her to sit, which she did, giving him a rather surprised look..

"You know I've been reading your diary and commenting under each entry. Now it's your turn to read what I've written back to you, okay?"

"But I have to keep an eye on the pasta sauce I'm making, it needs to be stirred every now and then," she demurred, making a move as if to stand up again.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and put his hand on her shoulder, preventing her from rising. "I think I can handle stirring the sauce while you read." He reached over to the the coffee table and collected the diary. He handed it to her then watched in satisfaction as she opened it and began to read his own entries.

He went back and forth between the kitchen and the sofa every few minutes to dutifully stir the pasta sauce.

Molly looked up at him on a couple of occasions and smiled. Then, a little later she laughed. "How on earth have you heard of Christian Grey from _Fifty Shades of Grey_?"

Sherlock smirked. "Mary had the _Fifty Shades Of Grey_ books. John lent them to me for some light reading when I was going through withdrawal after the Culverton Smith business. I suppose he did that because he thought I had a thing for Irene Adler. It was most illuminating."

Molly looked at him wide-eyed. "Sherlock Holmes, I would never have expected that of you - or John either - reading erotica like that."

Sherlock didn't bother to answer that, merely raised an eyebrow and asked, "So hmmm, how do _you_ know about those books then, my darling?"

Molly blushed furiously. "I um, well, Mary might have showed me some of the more, um, indelicate passages. It was quite shocking," she admitted.

Sherlock gave her a sultry look. "Are you sure you didn't find it a little - erotic?"

Molly tugged at her braid absently, twirling the end of it. "You are not going to let me live down that uni dream, are you?"

"Nope," he popped his _p_. "Perhaps those books were why you were able to imagine making love with me so clearly in your dream, even when we had not done it in reality."

His wife blushed again, adorably. "You may be right."

"I, myself, may have got some ideas on how to please my wife, thanks to those books," he confessed. "It was quite a learning experience."

This time, Molly smirked. "And here I thought it was all just instinct and research on your part."

Sherlock huffed. "I may have got _some_ ideas about technique from those books and the internet, but I still had to enact them."

"And you did it so well," Molly responded, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Molly Holmes, get back to your reading while I stir that sauce, or I will do some more practising my technique on you," he ordered sternly, tapping the diary.

"Promises, promises," his wife said cheekily, but obediently returned to her reading.

Sherlock was in the kitchen, stirring the pasta sauce like a good husband a short time later when Molly entered and he removed his hand from the spoon to turn and look at her. "Finished?"

Molly smiled at him. "Yes, I've finished. Thank you, honey. I loved hearing your own thoughts about what I wrote. I have to apologise though. I didn't even think about telling you about my purity ring."

Sherlock smacked a hand to his forehead. "I meant to ask you about that yesterday, but well, I was a little distracted due to our little celebration over the fact that you are pregnant. Do you still have the ring?"

Molly nodded. "I keep it in the ring box it came in, and it's in my bedside drawer. I haven't looked at it in a few years. Do you want to see it?"

Sherlock turned to look at her properly. "I'd love to see it. It makes me even more glad that we kept to our resolve to wait for our wedding night to honour God."

Molly went up on her tiptoes to kiss Sherlock's cheek, then headed for the bedroom, returning a minute later with a small box.

Sherlock took the box from her and opened it. Inside was a small silver ring. There was no ornamentation on it, but he inspected it and noticed it had been engraved with Molly's name and the date on the inside. Out of curiosity he slipped it onto his pinky finger, and it fit quite nicely.

Molly giggled at that. "Your hands are so much larger than mine," she commented and Sherlock smirked. "My hands are a good size for playing my violin and-" here, he winked suggestively, "other things," at which a very satisfying blush bloomed over his wife's face.

To cover her embarrassment, Molly took the ring back off of Sherlock's finger and put it back in the box. "I'll just take this back to the bedroom," she said hastily, doing just that.

Sherlock, in the meantime, returned to stirring the sauce.

When Moly returned, she slipped her hands around his waist from behind. "If you want, you can read some more now, while I keep working on dinner."

He set down the wooden spoon, turned and kissed her. "I'll do that. Reading about your heart is the most interesting thing I've ever read. It beats _Fifty Shade of a Grey,'_ hands down."

Molly smiled at him and soon afterwards he was immersed in the diary once again.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **November**_

 _Well, Diary, I misplaced you for a few months. Just found you under the bed when I was trying to do a good cleaning. I guess I had put you on my bedside table and you slipped down the side and got kicked underneath by accident. I feel a bit embarrassed that I did not bother looking for you. Really, my life has just been going along in the same manner as usual._

 _Even though it has been six months since I wrote in you last, I still have not been able to get over this infatuation with Sherlock. Every time I see him, my heart jumps. I still dream about him, and I think about him every night before I go to sleep, imagining scenarios in which he ends up kissing me._

 _Sometimes I think about him striding into the lab one day and just pulling me into his arms, saying he just realised how much he cares about me, Then I think about him placing his long fingers under my chin and lifting my face to his so he can settle those full, sensual lips against mine. Even the thought of it now, makes me tingle all over. I think it would be so thrilling to be kissed by him._

 _On the occasions when he does come to the hospital to look at a body I've done a post-mortem on, or study something through one of the lab microscopes, I find myself watching him surreptitiously. My gaze constantly drifts to his lips. His hair and his lips, such arresting features. There I go, rambling on again. Does infatuation fade after a while, when it is unrequited? I'm starting to feel like I might actually love him, be in love with him, unrequited though my feelings are._

 _I cling to the words from the Bible which come from Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"_

 _I don't know what I'd do without my faith, how people cope in times of stress if they didn't have the knowledge that there is someone who will always love them. I just have to believe that at some point, if I am never going to have the opportunity to have more than friendship with Sherlock, that God will take away these unrequited feelings. I just feel this pressing need though to always pray for him, for his safety. I know, from some of the conversations we've had, that Sherlock has been in some dangerous situations. That's the nature of his work. In fact, I think I'll say a little prayer right now and put it in print._

 _Dear Lord, I pray for Sherlock. Keep your hand of protection over him always, guide him in his actions as he tries to help others. Help him to be the man I know he can be, to understand that his gifts come from you. I know you can do mighty things with him and I pray too that one day he will come to know you as well. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen._

 _ **Oh my poor, sweet darling. I can't believe you were daydreaming about me, thinking of me in this way for so long. Reading about you wishing I'd kiss you just makes me want to do that right now. As soon as I have read a few more entries, even if dinner is not ready, I am going to do just that.**_

 _ **Why did it take me so long to open my heart to your love? Those lost years will always haunt me.**_

 _ **When I read about you praying for me though, it amazed me how faithful you have always been in your walk with God. How could I not have seen that earlier? I guess I was not looking for it because I was too focussed on myself and my superiority to others. But see now, those words from Jeremiah have come true, have they not? XOX**_

 _ **December**_

 _I know it has been awhile since I wrote, but this is rather big news that requires some mention. Today, in the lab, Sherlock asked me if I wanted to stop by the flat in the venting of Christmas Day for a drink. I know he wasn't suggesting a drink with just him, because DI Lestrade was there at the time, and declined the same offer._

 _It was funny, Sherlock had been complaining about John heading off to see his sister just after Christmas. I get the feeling that although Sherlock does not seem fond of Christmas, he also does not relish the idea of spending the day alone either. Anyway, it was after he complained, that he suddenly blurted out, "So, uh, Molly, if you are not doing anything on Christmas Day in the evening, did you want to pop by the flat for a drink?" It may have not been those exact words, but I could have sworn he blushed a little, and he most definitely found it difficult to get the words out. I am sure he is not too adept at social interaction. It's fine when we are discussing work and maybe he talks about John once in awhile, but this was different. Perhaps he thought I'd think he was asking me out on a date?_

 _Of course, I did act a little coy. I mean, I couldn't blurt out that I'd love to spend some time with him in a social situation, to get to know him a bit better outside of the morgue and lab. So I kind of intimated that I was free, for now, as if I was hedging my bets. I don't want him to know I spend my life pining for him and daydreaming about him._

 _Oh dear, I just realised something, If I am going to go over there, wouldn't it be nice to buy some Christmas presents to show my thanks? I'm going to have to do a little shopping for Sherlock, Mrs Hudson and John._

 _ **Well, as you know now, it was Mrs Hudson's suggestion that I invite you. How interesting you acted coy on purpose. I wasn't aware of that. As far as asking you, i just felt a bit awkward - you know me and social situations. Anyway, I'm glad now that Mrs Hudson made the suggestion, even if the result of that night wasn't exactly what it should have been. I am already feeling awful about what is probably coming up next. I know you are going to talk about what an arse I was and you will be right. XOX**_

 _ **December**_

 _Well, I've done my shopping for the party tonight. I found a really nice, multi-coloured chiffon scarf for Mrs Hudson. I hope she likes it. For John, I bought a book about recent discoveries in the field of medicine. I got a bottle of wine for him as well. For Sherlock, I thought of getting him a scarf too - he seems to like those, but buying clothing for a man seemed a bit too intimate, when we are just friends (well, I think of us as friends, even if he doesn't). In the end I decided to go with something safe. He's so smart, so I thought it would be fun to give him a couple of those lateral thinking game puzzles books. You know, where you read about a scenario and then have to determine what happened. I'm sure Sherlock would be good at that. If I'm honest, I guess I am hoping he will ask me to play the little puzzle games with him, seeing as I was the one who gave him the gift. After all, you cannot solve lateral thinking puzzles alone. Someone has to read out the scenario and know the answer to respond to the person's guesses._

 _I had some Christmas wrapping paper at home, but I did especially buy some pretty red paper to wrap Sherlock's present. I had a bow I'd saved from a present I received from another colleague last year, so I thought I'd put it on Sherlock's present. I even decided to be a bit daring on the card for the present - I wrote "_ _ **Dearest Sherlock, Love Molly**_ _**XXX**_ _"_

 _I've been thinking about what to wear tonight. I never get the chance to dress up at work, so I thought I'd put on this pretty dress I bought on sale a year ago. I never had an opportunity to wear it, so I thought, why not? Not that I really expect Sherlock to notice what I'm wearing, although he probably will on an intellectual level, because he notices everything. It would be a vain hope that he would actually think I look pretty, I'm sure. Even so, I do want to look my best for once._

 _I have these lovely sparkly earrings to wear and they should set off the sparkles in my dress. I even found another bow that I'm going to put in my hair to make it look more festive. For once, I'll wear my hair down and put on more makeup. I bought some bright red lipstick awhile ago that I've never worn, it just seemed a bit too much for everyday wear, but for evening wear it will hopefully look nice._

 _I'm just a teensy bit excited about tonight. My romantic heart is hoping Sherlock will notice me, even if my realistic self is telling me it won't happen. But a girl can dream, can't she? Diary, I know you are saying I'm too old to still believe in fairytales and happily-ever-after. But, I guess that's me - always looking at the glass as at least half full. And yeah, I know Meena would laugh at me too, she's definitely a realist. Well, I must be getting ready now. I promise I'll tell you all about it later, dear Diary._

 _ **I am going to put this here on paper so you will always have it to look at. You looked exquisite that night; I tried to pretend I was unaffected, but I wasn't. Why do you think I looked away from you and started talking to John? I felt an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of my stomach, this twinge I didn't recognise. Of course, I now know it was desire. I wanted you Molly, even if I didn't know I wanted you.**_

 _ **Oh, and the present? I may not have done anything with it for years, out of guilt, but we did have fun with those puzzles on our honeymoon didn't we? And your sexy little idea of taking off our clothes one by one - well, you know how effective that was! It was such a sweet, thoughtful gift and worth waiting a few extra years to enjoy them properly with you, my love. XOX**_

 _ **Same night**_

 _Please excuse the tears, I am probably going to mess up this page with them. Tonight was - well it didn't go as I expected, it was pretty much a disaster actually._

 _I was so excited when I left the flat. When I looked in the mirror I felt like I had never looked prettier. I spent ages on my hair and makeup. When I got to Baker Street, the outer door was unlocked and it said to come right up._

 _So I did. Greg was there, bit of a surprise, but he apparently made things up with his wife, (the unfaithful one he has told me about on several occasions, poor guy). He is leaving tomorrow instead of tonight, so he was able to come. John had a new girlfriend there, and Mrs Hudson was there as well, of course._

 _When I got there, Sherlock practically ignored me, talking to John, then making a comment that I should not make jokes when I tried to make a little one with Mrs Hudson._

 _But then, Sherlock decided it would be fun to rip all my hopes and dreams into shreds. I can't tell you how much it hurt when he made assumptions about me going off to see some boyfriend afterwards, making parallels to the color of my lipstick and wrapping paper. Oh, and then he had to make a rude comment about trying to compensate for the size of my mouth and breasts. I know I'm not over-endowed in the curves department, but that hurt so much. No girl wants to be thought of as having breasts that are too small._

 _The worst part of his deductions though is that he was completely right. He thought he was talking about this other guy, but it was himself. I think he realised it when he read the card on the present._

 _I did have enough presence of mind to tell Sherlock off, but Christmas was ruined for me at that moment when I realised my feelings will always be unrequited. To be honest, I really felt like slapping him for his rudeness before I restrained myself to just words. But I know it says in the Bible several times to be slow to anger and abounding in love. It's not easy being a Christian sometimes and remembering that._

 _It's not easy either to acknowledge that Sherlock doesn't and never will care about me as anything more than a casual acquaintance. I don't even know if he considers me a friend. The only thing that stopped me from running out of the flat after I told him off was that he did something surprising. He told me he was sorry and to forgive him, wished me a merry Christmas, and then - he kissed me. Mind you, just a kiss on the cheek, but it still gave me a tingling sensation._

 _Right after that, Sherlock got some kind of disgusting sounding text alert from persons unknown and went off to do his own thing, no idea what that was about. Perhaps after all he does have a secret girlfriend? That moan was a bit provocative. It doesn't seem likely, but what do I know? Anyway, I made an excuse that I was getting a headache, and went home. I didn't want the others looking at me sympathetically and the night had been spoiled for me anyway. I changed out of my dress, brushed out my hair and put on a Christmas jumper._

 _All I know right now is that I just want to curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep. But I'm not just upset, I have to admit, even though I forgive Sherlock, in my humanness, I'm also still, God forgive me, feeling angry and frustrated at the way he behaved. What gives him the right to make deductions like that and stomp over people's feelings? Why does he act the way he does? Is there something in his past that caused him to be this way? Did someone hurt him in the far distant past which caused him to become the man he is today? I don't know. But oh, my phone is going off, I need to check it..._

 _ **My God, this was hard to read exactly how you felt, my darling, how I hurt you. You had every right to be angry with me and I don't blame you at all. Perhaps you should have slapped me. It might have knocked some sense into me earlier. I didn't understand why I was lashing out at you then, but I do now. I have reflected on it so many times over the last few months, and I know I was jealous. When I saw that present, I was so sure it was for some boyfriend, or potential boyfriend. You were MY pathologist and I did not want to share you with anyone else. I convinced myself at the time it was only for that reason, that I was so cruel. That night though, you chipped away a little more of the ice around my heart. Your cheek was so soft, but I wish I'd kissed your lips. If that blasted text hadn't come in and distracted me (I'm rolling my eyes at your notion I might have had a secret girlfriend), maybe I would have had time to process things more instead of being distracted. Speaking of which, I think I'm going to do that right now. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock put the diary back down onto the coffee table with the reading glasses and walked into the kitchen.

Molly was standing at the sink, draining some pasta. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck.

"Are you finished reading for now?" she asked.

"For now. I read about that awful Christmas and how you were hurt by me and how you were angry, justifiably so. I also read about how you daydreamed about kissing me. Turn around, my love, so I can kiss you the way you wanted me to," he instructed.

"But the pasta..." she protested.

"The pasta can wait," he told her firmly, and she set the bowl down then turned to face him.

Then he put his fingers under his wife's chin and lifted it, settling his lips upon hers, gently at first, then with more passion, until Molly threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

He raised his arms from her waist to hold her more firmly to himself, pressing kisses along her jawline and her neck until she squeaked. "Sherlock, if you don't stop, the pasta is going to be cold. Let's have dinner first, before we move onto other things."

"I thought this was having dinner," he told her playfully.

she tossed her head. "No, that's dessert."

"Oh fine," he huffed, releasing her.

Once they had eaten their meal of Molly's most delicious homemade pasta sauce with spaghetti noodles, Sherlock took their plates to the sink and opened his arms for Molly to walk into them. "That was delicious, my love. Do I get my dessert now?"

Molly laughed lightly. "Maybe."

She did not laugh for long though. All too soon Sherlock was rather busy kissing various parts of her anatomy and leaving a trail of clothes that led to their bedroom. Sherlock did not need a book anymore to tell him what his wife liked. He no longer lacked the practical experience.

And as he drifted off into sleep later that night after a second session of very satisfying lovemaking, with Molly securely wrapped in his embrace, he wondered about that Christmas, how things might have been different if he had recognised his own jealousy and acted upon it to pursue a romantic relationship with her. Those final thoughts prompted a dream in which he did exactly that.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Did you like the way Molly had her own chance to read Sherlock's comments on her diary in this chapter? I felt it was important that she be given that opportunity. I definitely wanted to have her address his "Christian Grey" comment and I hope their little conversation about it didn't make you squirm too much.

More about those lateral thinking game puzzle books and what happened when they were finally used can be found in _A Honeymoon Journey._

Please bear with me as I take a break from publishing the diary in order to publish the dream Sherlock has at this point. Once again, I hope my readers will follow along into this dream and enjoy an alternate story that begins with the Christmas party canon scene then takes a different track. Has this kind of thing been done before? I'm assuming it might have been done back when series 2 aired, but perhaps not recently?

So, stand by for _Making Different Choices_ and see how the post TFP Sherlock would like things to have happened after that Christmas party if he had been able to acknowledge his jealousy. Are you interested in finding out?

 **Note:** I have only just completed the writing of this dream, but chronologically of course it is the first in my _Realizations of Love Dreams_ series. I have added a chronological list of those dreams onto my profile too, including spoilers for upcoming stories, even though they can be read without having read the Journey series. However, it will help readers to understand the more sensitive portrayal of Sherlock if they are aware these dreams occur post Sherrinford. In addition, some of these scenes show backstory from my "real" characters, that may have been explained in earlier Journey stories. Are you completely confused now?

One extra thing, I would like to thank **comp1mom** for her suggestion about including more when it comes to Molly's anger about Sherlock's treatment of her, rather than just the hurt. She has every right to feel that anger, and she is only human, after all. So I have just added in some extra content which addresses it. I do encourage my readers to participate in my storytelling by making suggestions on ways it can be improved as well.

If you are really enjoying this story so far, I would love to see a few more follows and favourites on it. I'd be happy to know that people rank it up there with their favourite stories! What can I do, as the author, to make the story one _you_ would like to add to your list?


	6. Unrequited Love & Married Love

**Author's note:** Okay, now that I have finished publishing _Making Different Choices_ , I am resuming the diary. If you did not read that story as I published it, please be aware that this chapter contains spoilers for it as Sherlock and Molly discuss it. If you wish to read it, I suggest you leave the reading of this chapter until you have finished that story. There are also some spoilers in this chapter pertaining to my initial story, _A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage_.

* * *

 **Sunday, August 27, 2017**

It was Sunday afternoon and Sherlock and Molly had just finished eating lunch. "I still can't believe you dreamed about us going out together after that Christmas and me proposing to you," Molly commented as she took their plates and put them in the sink, then turned back around to face him where he sat at the table.

Sherlock smirked. "Well, that probably came about because you were telling me about reading some fanfiction story about a woman doing just that, and my subconscious paired it with the purity ring you showed me."

Molly gave him a cheeky grin. "And what about the condoms? How did they make it into your dream?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I have no idea. Perhaps that goes back to the fact that Mycroft gave me that box when we were engaged and they are still sitting in my drawer unopened. I must admit, I am rather glad I have not had to use such contraceptive methods." Then he smirked at Molly. "If you recall, condoms also made an appearance in your own dream when we were engaged and hadn't even made love yet."

Molly blushed. "Oh yes, I had forgotten."

Sherlock couldn't help laughing at the embarrassed expression on her face. "Anyway," he continued, in an effort to change the subject, "what did you like best about the dream I described?"

Molly smiled. "I think the best part was the end of your dream, where I was pregnant. It was rather nice that you had an opportunity to dream about John being with Mary as well." Then she added hastily, "Of course, I'm very happy he is with Kayla now and obviously that was God's plan, but still, I know we will always miss Mary."

Sherlock stood and put his arms around Molly. "Yes, but at least we know she wanted us to be together and recognised we were in love with one another. That posthumous DVD proved that once and for all." He dropped a kiss onto Molly's lips. "But for me, I thought one of the most interesting parts of the dream was that my counterpart had a vision of you walking down the aisle in your wedding dress in church, and that is what made him realise he wanted to marry you."

"A vision inside a dream, now that's interesting," Molly commented with a smile. "I wonder if you have a predisposition towards vivid dreams?"

Sherlock recalled his vivid hallucination of a Victorian time version of himself when he had been high. He still remembered that perfectly and at some point he would tell Molly about it. "Perhaps so."

A little while later Sherlock found himself with some time on his hands. Molly was busy writing out thank you cards for the wedding presents they had received. He knew Molly would know the exact right thing to say as thanks to people, so was quite glad to leave it to her.

"Sweetheart, I'm going to read some more of your diary now, okay?" he called from his chair, after picking up the diary and slipping on his reading glasses as usual.

"Alright," Molly responded from the kitchen. "These thank you notes will take awhile, so I'm glad you have something to do."

Sherlock found the page he needed and was soon engrossed.

.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **Still later the same night**_

 _Well, that text was a call for me to go to the hospital. Mike Stamford asked if I'd come in. Apparently there was a body Sherlock needed to see, someone he knew. I was a little hesitant to come in after all that happened earlier this evening, but nobody else was available at short notice and I decided I would just act as if nothing had happened, that Sherlock hadn't torn my heart into little pieces._

 _Before he got to the hospital I looked at the body. The face was battered, unrecognisable. When Sherlock turned up with his brother, Mycroft, he acted all casual as if he too didn't want to show any recognition of what occurred earlier, in fact he made a comment that I didn't need to come in. I don't know who else he expected was going to be around on Christmas to give him access to the body. Of course, even if Sherlock had been willing to say anything about earlier, he would certainly not have done so in front of his brother so I wasn't really surprised. I guess there was not really anything to say anyhow. He asked for forgiveness and I gave it to him, end of story. I could never not forgive Sherlock, even if he hurt me and made me angry as well. Some people might call that a weakness, but I don't think so. The world needs more people who understand that holding a grudge benefits no one. Even on the cross Jesus asked his heavenly Father to forgive those who had put him there. There I go, off on a tangent. Back to what happened._

 _I showed them the body. Sherlock asked to see more than her face, and he glanced at her body, then said it was the woman he thought it was. According to the paperwork, her name was Irene Adler. I don't know how he knew her from her body rather than face. Apparently he has some secrets. Maybe she was a secret girlfriend who sent that text after he kissed my cheek? If so though, how did she turn up dead so fast? So many unanswered questions to which I will never know the answer._

 _And one more question. Why did Mycroft Holmes call me Miss Hooper instead of Dr. Hooper? Perhaps he does not like to think of women holding that title? I spent twelve years earning it and I find it rather rude - not that I would ever say it to his face._

 _I'm not as sad now, Diary. I had my good cry and I'm not going to do it anymore. Obviously Sherlock is not the man I thought he was._

 _ **Well, my love, you know now the body was not Irene. She had the DNA reports falsified by one of her many conquests, then revealed she was alive on New Year's Eve, and I saved her from execution a few months later. I have also told you that the reason I thought the dead body was hers was because the measurements were the same after she paraded her nakedness in front of me. I didn't want to admit to Mycroft that I really was not certain about it at all. I may not have said it to you before, but I only glanced at her, enough to gauge her measurements, which is why I did not accurately know if the body was hers. The only woman's body I have ever desired to see naked was yours, and I am most gratified to get to see that every night (and sometimes during the day too, haha). And here is a little secret I will now divulge. It was after I saw Irene that first day, that I took notice that you were a woman, with a woman's figure. I hadn't really considered that until after that time, I am ashamed to say.**_

 _ **I'm sorry you had a notion I might have had a secret girlfriend. I was only intrigued by Irene's intellect, although she is still not as smart as you, nor can she handle the tools for conducting post-mortems the way you do. Your skills require a lot more thought than someone who can wield a few whips and other such things. I detest everything that woman stands for, indulging people in sexual perversions that way (not to be confused with our little honeymoon playfulness, of course). It amazes me that anyone would willingly choose to be punished. Being beaten is not pretty and I have the scars to prove it. The only thing I want touching your skin is my hands and my mouth.**_

 _ **And yes, I was still embarrassed about what had happened earlier. I was rather glad that Mycroft's presence made it impossible for me to say anything to you, because quite frankly, I would not have known what to do except to apologise again for my inexcusable behaviour. I love that even in your diary you continue to talk about your faith. I also agree that having a forgiving heart is not a weakness, but a strength.**_

 _ **I don't understand either why my brother kept referring to you as Miss Hooper. At least he finally apologised for that. Now that he calls you Molly, he won't ever make that mistake either. My Dr. Molly Holmes. I love that you bear my name now.**_

 _ **Reading that you decided I was not the man you thought I was, now that was a bit painful. Fortunately, I know how the story ends, and that you changed your mind about that. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **January**_

 _Well, it's a new year. More of the same dull existence I suppose. Today Sherlock turned up in the lab and he was x-raying, of all things, a cameraphone. I asked him if it was his girlfriend's and he didn't answer me directly, so I suppose it could have been. He also said, "She loves to play games," whatever that means. But then again, what would I know? If he does have one, he is keeping that information very private. Even so, I can't help the ache in my heart at the thought of him being with another woman. I guess that is selfish of me. He deserves happiness even if it can't be with me, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm not perfect, after all._

 _ **I don't think it is selfish for someone to want to have a piece of happiness. You wanted me to be happy, happy with you, and I am more than happy, I am overjoyed, my sweet love.**_

 _ **I never told you what I was doing with that phone, did I? There were bombs in it. I was trying to figure out the lock code to retrieve valuable information on it. When I told you she liked puzzles (and yes, it was Irene's phone), I tried 221B as the code, and it was wrong. I did figure out her code though. It was SHER. Silly woman, she had a little crush on me. The phone screen showed "I am _ l~ocked" The code went before the "locked." Get it? If I had a phone like that the code would be I am MOLL locked. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **June**_

 _Maybe I need to change this diary to "Diary of an Infatuated Pathologist," because it seems I only write in it when there is something going on concerning Sherlock._

 _He has become quite famous of late, solving several high-profile crimes in a short space of time. He's a bit of a celebrity, in fact. I have to say though, he doesn't let it go to his head, so there's a point in his favour. He recovered a famous painting, found a kidnapped banker. Then he helped in the capture of some big criminal named Ricoletti._

 _ **I still remember the appreciation gifts I received - diamond cuff links, which were useless because my shirt sleeves have buttons, a tie-pin which was useless because you know I don't usually wear ties. Then of course I got the bloody hat; I still call it an ear hat. I know you dislike it as I do. That deerstalker went missing. Did you by chance have anything to do with that? I certainly hope so! XOX**_

* * *

 _ **July**_

 _Some weird stuff has been happening lately. Sherlock was called to testify at the trial for James Moriarty, who broke into the Tower of London. Yeah, you heard me right, Moriarty, aka Jim, who I briefly dated. So he has turned up again. That isn't the weird part. The weird part is that Moriarty got off scot free, was found not guilty, despite Sherlock's testimony. I do not understand how anyone could listen to Sherlock and then not believe him that Moriarty was guilty. The other odd thing was that Moriarty put in a not guilty plea, but had no witnesses or evidence to support his plea. Something very fishy went on there. Sherlock may have his faults, but I believe in him. I would do anything for him if he needed it. He's an upright, honest man of integrity. Yeah, he lacks the social graces, but his work speaks for itself. Besides, I have firsthand experience with Jim and know he was not who he pretended to be._

 _ **Thank you for your faith in me, my love. I guess this was where you started to believe in me again. It was very frustrating to see e Moriarty get off when I knew he was guilty. Do you know how he did it? He had discovered dirt on some of the jurors and had threatening videos made to get to them. That was how he was able to get the "not guilty" verdict. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **September**_

 _Lately something seems a bit different with Sherlock. It all started when that horrible Moriarty got off despite Sherlock's testimony. There's something in his eyes - sadness, maybe? It is the way my Dad used to look when I'd catch him unexpectedly during his short battle with pancreatic cancer. He was always happy, brave even. But there were moments I felt that sadness. I know he wasn't afraid to die. He knew he was going home to the Lord, but I know he was sad to leave me and Mum behind. He was more concerned about us than himself._

 _Speaking of Mum, I miss her. We have lost touch for several years now. She completely fell apart after Dad died, started drinking. I think my graduation with my medical degree was the last time we spent together as mother and daughter. I moved to my flat and had given her my number and - nothing. I guess she wanted to forget I existed, because I reminded her too much of Dad. I didn't even have anyone come to see me when I graduated with my doctorate in pathology. Oh well. I hope that one day we can be reconciled. She is the only family I have._

 _ **It is so sad reading about your dad. I know from what you've told me what a good man he was. I only hope that I am as good a husband to you as he was to your mother. I am so glad you and your mother are now reconciled and that I was able to play a small role in helping to bring about your reconciliation. So this is when you started noticing I was sad? You were right. The whole Moriarty thing left a a bad taste in my mouth. He was so smug too that day. He bested me and I did not like that at all. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **October**_

 _So much happened today, I want to put it in writing before I go back to the hospital to put in a couple of extra hours. Several people are out sick today so I told Mike I'd come back after I went home to feed Toby._

 _Today Sherlock came in with John. I was headed out for a lunch date with a new doctor at the hospital. I figured it was time I try and get over Sherlock. So much for that. I ended up doing what Sherlock wanted, like I always do. He is working on a case of two missing children and is convinced Moriarty is behind it._

 _I helped Sherlock with his analysis of some residue left from footprints by the kidnapper. He is always so focussed. He even called me John! I tried to bring up Sherlock's sadness in conversation. I asked if he was okay because he looked sad when he thought no one was looking. It was strange, after being dismissive of my fist attempts to discuss the way I felt he seemed, Sherlock suddenly looked directly at me and said "You can see me."_

 _Of course, that got me a bit flustered. Does he really think that? Of course I said, "I don't count." It was a reflex. I was just hoping for some acknowledgement of that sadness, not a declaration from him about myself. I did go on to tell him though that if he needed anything, I would be there for him, I'd give him anything he needed._

 _You know what, it was when he looked at me right then, I do believe my feelings changed from infatuation to love. I love him, Diary. I'm finally admitting it. I really, truly love him. I am in love with Sherlock Holmes. There is something so freeing about expressing it to you, in a way I'll never be able to do in real life. The reason I know my love will forever remain unrequited, is that, after I told him I'd give him anything he needed, he said, "But what could I need from you?" So apparently it will forever be the friend zone for us. I'll never know the touch of those lips, feel that hair of his. I'll never tell him that I'm in love with him. It would most definitely be the end of our friendship if I voiced it, because he would feel too uncomfortable around me._

 _Oh, by the way, Sherlock disappeared when I went off to get some crisps. Well, I told him I was getting crisps. Really I went to the toilet to have a good cry over him. By the time I cleaned myself up and came back to the lab, he and John were gone. I guess he figured out where those missing children were being held. He didn't even say goodbye to me, but that's not unusual for Sherlock._

 _Great, now my tears are blurring some of the ink on this page. I think I am going to start a playlist on my phone called "Unrequited." I'll find songs to remind myself that I am doomed to have this unrequited love. I already know one song to put on. It is a Bonnie Raitt one called "I Can't Make you Love Me." It's the perfect song about unrequited love._

 _ **I was a bit high-handed with you, but I was glad of your help. I don't even remember calling you John. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye.**_

 _ **That day, for the first time, I realised you were very perceptive when it came to me. Nobody else had detected my sadness, not even John, yet you did. That was when you saw straight into my soul, my darling. I knew I trusted you completely, that you were indeed a good friend, a best friend, as much as John was. Of course I know now that I was falling in love with you, but just not emotionally ready to deal with that.**_

 _ **So this is where you knew you loved me? you never told me there was a definite point in time when you recognised it.**_

 _ **So you wrote about starting that playlist here. Your secret would have been outed if I had not found it by accident on your phone when you lent it to me that day because I had forgotten to charge mine, with less than three weeks till our wedding. Oh, my poor love, what I put you through - what you endured for me. My heart aches to the point where I cannot read further right now. I feel the need to kiss my wife and tell her that her love for me is reciprocated in full. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock dropped the diary followed by his reading glasses onto the coffee table.

He headed into the kitchen, where Molly was shaking her wrist.

"Writer's cramp? I've been getting that too with writing in your diary. It is one of the reasons I can only read a few entries at a time."

"Yeah," Molly sighed. "Brings back to mind the cramps I got in my hand when I wrote out the wedding invitations. I did want to write out the thank you's by hand though, it is more personal that way. Plus I still have to write out thank you's for the lovely gifts I got at my hen night."

Sherlock gave his wife a smouldering look. "I think we definitely need to try out some more of those lovely gifts. Fancy putting one on for me right now? I feel the need to show you that your love for me is not it all unrequited as you wrote in your diary."

"Oh my goodness, you read about that? It's so embarrassing to think about how childish I was in making that playlist."

He smiled. "I think it was rather endearing, actually. Now, how about my suggestion?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well," said Molly, giving him a sexy look of her own through her eyelashes. "I suppose I could use a break from all this writing."

Sherlock pulled her up from the kitchen chair and gave her a lingering kiss before murmuring in a deep voice, "I'll be waiting, love."

With a little giggle, Molly left the kitchen and went to the bedroom, while Sherlock seated himself in his chair to wait her return. A few minutes later she emerged in a dressing gown and stood before him expectantly.

"I can't wait to unwrap my present," Sherlock murmured, standing and pulling her into his arms.

"I think you need a few less clothes before you unwrap it," Molly purred, sliding her hands between them and deftly unbuttoning his suit jacket and shirt buttons. She was getting quite good at that, he thought.

He shrugged out of the confining garments, and she placed her hands along his chest.

He drew in his breath as she traced circles along his pectoral muscles. Her fingers were so light in the way they danced across his skin in a tantalising manner. He could only take those movements for a limited amount of time and soon took both of her hands, putting them behind her back while he kissed her, moving his body against hers sensuously.

He released Molly's hands only so he could untie the dressing gown, feeling the anticipation of what he would find beneath.

Oh, he liked what he saw. This was one garment he had not yet seen her wear. It was a teddy in a baby blue colour with straps that crossed under each of her lovely breasts. And oh, the teddy left nothing to the imagination, being beautifully sheer in its chiffon.

Reverently Sherlock caressed those curves through the fabric.

"Do you like it?" asked Molly, dimpling at him. "It was from Sheila."

"Your friend has good taste. I like it very much," he said, before capturing her lips with his own, kissing her with the long, slow, passionate kisses that always made that flame rise within them both. Even as h kissed Molly, he continued to caress her breasts, eliciting several little gasps of pleasure from her.

Molly wrapped her arms tightly about Sherlock's neck as he lifted her into his arms, and headed to their favourite room, where he could show her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, and how mutual that love was - definitely not unrequited.

* * *

 **Author's note:** As I mentioned at the beginning of the chapter, there are elements in this one that reference my initial story. This happens quite often, because of my "one universe" way of writing Sherlock and Molly. Therefore, anything that is discussed post Sherrinford is consistent with my own writing of what happened after that time. For you to really understand and appreciate these references, if you have not read my first story, I recommend that you do so, despite its length. It definitely shows the evolution in their relationship and how Sherlock has grown in his comfort level with his emotions as a result.

I will probably only publish one chapter of this diary this week and next week. My sister and family are visiting for Easter next week and my house needs a significant amount of attention to make it visitor ready! Plus I have a very heavy rehearsal schedule for my next opera after just finishing the last one.

Your support with follows/favourites and reviews is always appreciated. Following and favouriting is only a click away and reviewing only takes typing on a few keys, just as you would type a text (unless you want to write a longer review which of course is always very much appreciated). Thank you to those of you who are already actively encourage me on a consistent basis. It would be lovely to hear from some of those silent, shy readers as well!


	7. Helping with The Fall & Kiss Experiment

**Thursday, August 31, 2017**

It was a few days before Sherlock had time to do any more reading. Lestrade had called him into New Scotland Yard on a murder case. Molly had done the post-mortem on the body and it was a bit like old times, them working together as she made mention of different things she had discovered on the body. She was almost as good at identifying clues as he was, the detective reflected.

Of course things were rather different now when they worked together. Every time Molly helped him with anything he was analysing, he would kiss her as well as thank her.

Earlier today the case had been solved and the murderer apprehended. Sherlock was now home with a couple hours on his hands before his wife was due to return home herself.

As usual, the diary lay in its position under the coffee table. He knew this next section of entries would probably contain her perceptions on the events surrounding _the fall_. Reading from Molly's perspective would undoubtedly be an interesting experience.

He was right about that.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **Home again (same night)**_

 _OMG, I feel giddy, like a teenage girl. Sherlock Holmes kissed me! No, I am not imagining it. Of course that sounds like much more than it was._

 _I must back-track though. First off, I was just turning off the lab lights after putting in those extra hours and getting ready to leave, when I got a fright. Sherlock spoke to me from the darkness._

 _It was very surreal. He told me I was wrong and that I did count, and he had always trusted me. I guess he actually paid attention when I said those words to him earlier in the day. Then he admitted he wasn't okay. After that, he said he thought he was going to die. I was confused for a moment, then asked what he needed._

 _Oddly, he asked if I'd still want to help him if he wasn't everything I thought he was, or everything he thought he was. It was all so confusing, almost as if he was having an identity crisis. I've never heard him sound like that before. He has always been so confident in everything he does, with no room for second guessing himself._

 _Naturally, I'd do anything for him. I asked again what he needed. He was coming closer to me, staring at me intently. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode._

 _Then, when he was only a few inches from me, he said in that sexy voice of his, "You." He leaned towards me then and he kissed me. Like I said, it was the merest touch of his lips, but it was indescribable how it made me feel. I just wish he would have kissed me properly._

 _Instead, he stepped back, as if nothing had happened between us, (so apparently it meant something to me that he kissed me, but was just a friend kiss from his perspective), and proceeded to tell me about how James Moriarty is trying to discredit him, pretending to be an out of work actor named Richard Brook. This all went down after the case he solved earlier today, that I helped him with in my own small way._

 _I was horrified of course. When Sherlock told me he thought Jim wanted him to die, so he needed my help to figure out a way to fake it, of course I was happy to help. We talked for hours. Between us we came up with thirteen possible scenarios in which Moriarty might try to ensure his death. The one thing Sherlock was certain of was that it would involve the roof of the hospital, because he was engineering a confrontation there, to at least have some control over the situation, which I thought was a very intelligent thing to do. Even though it was night, we took a walk up to the roof so Sherlock could inspect it from every angle._

 _Sherlock told me he would get his brother's help as well, and a bunch of people he refers to as his homeless network. I guess Sherlock and his brother have been expecting this confrontation for a couple months now, ever since Moriarty was not convicted for the "crime of the century" despite Sherlock's testimony. We made plans for the different scenarios and assigned different titles for each so a simple text would indicate if and when the time came what would be happening._

 _After Sherlock left, I had to do some work from my end to get things ready. Probably not something I should be discussing here, so I won't. Let's just say things are ready on my end if the worst happens._

 _To be honest, I am terrified for Sherlock. He's so brave and matter-of-fact about things. He doesn't seem to understand the risk inherent in all the things that could go wrong. If anything happened to him, it would break my heart. I'll be praying very hard tonight that if he has to go through with faking his death, that God is merciful and allows him to live despite the risk._

 _If he does find it necessary to go through with things, he'll need a place to stay for a few days, so I said he could stay at my flat. I'm still hoping it won't come to that. As soon as I get back to work though, I need to make sure things are ready to go and wait for a text that will go out simultaneously to me, the homeless network people and Mycroft._

 _Please God, keep him safe._

 _ **You always believed in me, had faith in me. Even back then, you supported me without question. I did feel something when I gave you that kiss, but I didn't allow myself to dwell on it. I didn't have time. You know how I was back then. I'm not sure I would have been ready for a romantic relationship at that point. My sweet, sweet girl, thank God you were there and willing to help me. I do not think I could have done it without you, actually I know that. Even with Mycroft's help, I needed you to do all the hospital-related stuff. I guess God was preparing us even then for each other, making sure you were there when I needed you. God saved me for you, sweetheart XOX**_

* * *

 _ **October - next day**_

 _Well, unfortunately Sherlock had to go through with his plan, Fortunately it succeeded. I can't believe it. He is staying here right now, in my flat. It is a bit thrilling really, to think of him being so near. I'm sleeping in the spare room in the single bed. Sherlock is a tall man, he really needs the room of a double bed. If only I dared look in on him. Well, perhaps I will just take a peek later and make sure he is sleeping - it was a stressful day after all._

 _After everything went down, I had to take care of the paperwork for the fake autopsy of the body I identified as Sherlock's. Sherlock's brother helped me with it, giving me access to hack into the system for this. He also arranged for the disposal of Jim Moriarty's body. I knew there was something weird about him. He actually killed himself in order to make Sherlock commit suicide to save his friends. It is all too complicated to relate all of this. I'm just thanking God right now that Sherlock is safe._

 _When I got home from work, Sherlock was already here. He had disguised himself of course in order to make his way here. He explained what happened on the roof (obviously he didn't have time earlier when we met briefly before replacing his live body from the gurney with the look-alike corpse), and I hugged him. Of course, he kind of gave me an awkward pat on the back as I hugged him. I wonder how he would have reacted if I'd pulled his head down and kissed him? I really, really wanted to. I was so relieved he had survived. I am thanking the Lord on my knees for that. I don't really understand why God has put this all-consuming love in my heart for Sherlock, but I thank God for every moment we've spent together, even though it will soon be over._

 _Sherlock told me his brother has arranged for him to go to Europe soon after his "funeral." Mycroft is arranging to have a gravestone made as a rush order to "prove" Sherlock is dead. Arrangements are already being made for the funeral, and who will be doing eulogies. I will be doing the last one. Even though I know Sherlock is alive, he will be leaving soon afterwards and it is going to break my heart._

 _Sorry, Diary. I am dripping tears onto the page again. I am going to miss him so much. I can't write any more right now. It's late. I think I will pop my head in to see if Sherlock is sleeping okay. I wouldn't be surprised if he finds it hard to sleep after what he went through today._

 _ **I don't think I realised the true extent of what you went through, my love. You didn't show it in any way. I admired your strength. I still do. Yet you remain soft and loving because it is an inner strength you draw upon which comes from God, and I know that now. Thank God you were there to save me, my love, and make no mistake - it was your help that saved me at this time - and then your love saved me by bringing me to faith a few months ago. XOX**_

* * *

 ** _October (next morning)_**

 _Well, I did peek in at Sherlock before going to bed and he seemed to be sleeping. In the middle of the night though I woke, and I heard him. He was talking in his sleep, so anguished. He must have been having a nightmare. I went into my bedroom and he was tossing and turning. I couldn't help myself, he was so obviously agitated that I slid under the covers with him and held him. I stroked his cheek and felt the tears there. I told him it was okay, that he'd be okay, he was safe. He never woke, but he finally settled back to sleep. I can't describe how amazing it felt to have his body close to mine. I know it is the only time I'll ever be so close to Sherlock. Just as well he was asleep. After he had settled back down though, I did do something because I couldn't resist it. He looked so vulnerable and young in sleep. I kissed him, on the lips. I just wanted to feel them once more. They were so soft. I kind of wished he'd wake and kiss me back, but of course he didn't. I'm sure he won't know I did it and I'll never tell him. It was probably wrong of me to do, but I do love him so. Oh, I hear him stirring. I had better put this away now._

 _ **So, my question here is, why didn't you tell me about this before, my love? I vaguely recall having a nightmare that first night about falling without anything being there to save me. But I must have been deeply asleep. I wish I had known you had been there. I suppose though it would not have made a difference. Then again, maybe my subconscious would have produced a reaction my conscious mind would not have. Thank you for being there for me. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **October**_

 _Well, I was right. Sherlock had no recollection of me getting into bed with him last night. I feel both glad and disappointed about that. As I was getting ready for work, a special delivery arrived from Mycroft that contained stuff for Sherlock. He was already on his laptop when I left for work and still on it when I returned home._

 _I watched Sherlock as he tapped away on his laptop tonight and then on his phone. We didn't speak much. He'll be gone soon. My heart is already breaking._

 _ **Oh my darling, I hope you understand I wasn't trying to ignore you. I was doing research online, trying to figure out Moriarty's underworld connections, then discussing with Mycroft where I needed to begin my work. If I had to leave London, at least I would be making myself useful. I promise, I will make every attempt to not ignore you that way again, no matter how busy I am with a case. If you think I am focussing too much on something, call me out on it. I love you. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock closed the diary and drifted into his mind palace, trying to recollect anything he could salvage from the dream he had had the first night he had stayed with Molly after "the fall."

A flicker of memory surfaced. He had gone from the nightmare to a feeling of being soothed, and the nightmare had ended. It was all he could recall though.

When Molly came home he went to her immediately and kissed her. As soon as she had dropped her handbag, he drew her to the sofa.

After they were seated, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me about that first night I stayed with you after I faked my suicide?"

Molly looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I read about it in your diary today. You wrote about me having a nightmare, and that you came into the bed and comforted me. Then you kissed me," he explained, taking her hand in his.

Molly blushed. "I had almost forgotten about that. It was a few years ago, after all." Her lips quirked. "You didn't remember it anyway."

He looked into the eyes of the woman he adored, and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Perhaps not consciously, but I was just thinking about that night and I do remember that the nightmare ended and I felt better. You made me feel better, Molly. I wish you had told me."

Molly's eyes fell before his, but he slipped his free hand beneath her chin and lifted it so their eyes could meet again. He could see the heightened colour still on her cheeks. "I couldn't tell you at the time. What was I going to say? ' _Oh, by the way, Sherlock, I crawled into bed with you and comforted you after you had a nightmare_.' How would you have reacted? I think you would have just been embarrassed about the whole thing."

"Maybe so," he conceded, trailing his thumb lightly across her jaw before teasing her with, "So you took advantage of me in my state of unconsciousness then by kissing me."

His wife blushed again before saying in a low voice, "Yes." He found it so endearing, the way she was so easily embarrassed. It was part of Molly's charm that he responded to. He was surprised by her next words. "I...I have a confession to make."

He raised an eyebrow. "What sort of confession?"

Molly bit her lip before answering. "I kissed you another time without your knowledge."

Sherlock made a mock exclamation of horror. "You violated my lips _again_?"

Molly turned her head away from him, forcing his hand away from her face. "I know," she said in a small voice. "I shouldn't have done it. I loved you so desperately. I couldn't resist it because I was so relieved you had not died."

Sherlock lifted his hand again to draw Molly's face back to his. "Let me make a deduction about when this occurred. It was when I was in hospital after I was shot, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she admitted softly, hesitantly. "It was the day after you were shot, when Mike Stamford took me into his office and told me you'd been brought in with a gunshot wound. I still remember my reaction when he didn't say immediately what you had been brought in for though, that I thought you had overdosed, Sherlock. I mean, just the day before you had tested positive for drugs."

"I know, darling. You've told me before about that, and I even dreamed about that scenario the other night," Sherlock said, keeping his gaze focussed on her.

"I know, I'm just trying to provide you with some context," she explained. "As hard as it was to be told that you had been shot, I was relieved you hadn't died of an overdose. I needed to reassure myself you'd be okay, so I asked Mike if I could just go downstairs and check on you."

Sherlock nodded his head. "I know you did, sweetheart. I'm just sorry I was unconscious when you came to see me."

Molly nodded. "The surgeon who operated on you was just leaving the room when I got there. You remember Chris? I introduced you to him and his wife, Rachel, at our wedding reception. When I asked him how you were doing, he told me about you dying on the operating table after the bullet was extracted and how your heart had started again of its own volition. He told me he had never seen anything like that happen before. Hearts don't just start beating again without assistance once they have stopped."

"At our wedding reception you just said he was the one who had told you my heart had stopped and started again, but not when you found out. I am certainly grateful to Chris because he undoubtedly saved my life. But I am also aware it was definitely a miracle that my heart started beating again. One of so many that I should have recognised as being signs that God was watching over me," he noted. Then, wanting Molly to get to the point about kissing him, he prodded, "So - you kissed me when I was unconscious?"

Molly reached her own free hand up to cover his where it still rested against her chin. "I did, just a tiny kiss. You looked so deathly pale and you were hooked up to all those monitors. I wrote about that in my diary too, so I guess you'll read about that eventually." she took a deep, cleansing breath. "So there, I'm a terrible person. I kissed your lips without your consent."

Sherlock chuckled, bending forward to touch his forehead to hers. "My darling, you know I was only teasing. In any case, you could make the same argument about me kissing you in the lab. I didn't ask your permission then. I think tonight you should show me how you kissed me. Perhaps this time I will respond." He set his lips to hers briefly, as if in a promise of things to come, then leaned back from her and winked.

Later that evening, after they had undressed and were in bed, facing one another, Sherlock raised himself up on one elbow and asked, "Shall we play our little game now?"

"The game is on," quipped Molly, and he knew she understood what he meant.

"Very well then, I want you to show me how you kissed me when I was not aware of it," he told her, flipping onto his back and turning his head towards her.

Molly gave him a sly look. "Well then, I suppose I should get dressed and back out of bed," she teased, moving back slightly as if to get out of bed.

"Oh no you don't," commanded Sherlock, sliding his arm out and capturing her wrist before saying in a seductive tone, "I don't want to waste time undressing you with what comes after the kiss."

Molly removed her wrist from his grasp and reached over to touch his face. "Well, go on then, close your eyes."

Sherlock obediently did as he was told, closing his eyes and lying patiently on his back, arms to his sides. He felt Molly's body shift and waited, expecting her kiss, then waited some more. Finally he grew impatient and opened his eyes. _Why is she taking so long?_

Molly was hovering over him, her hands to either side of his body, not quite touching him, but just looking at him.

"Are you going to just look at me all night, or are you going to kiss me?" he huffed.

Molly dimpled at him. "I'm sorry. I just love looking at you. Close your eyes again."

Again, he did so and this time felt her straddle him properly, then her body press against his. He was soon rewarded with the gentle press of her lips against his own. He waited three seconds, just feeling that lovely warmth spread through him, wondering how he could not have awoken when she always made him feel these sensations. Then he responded, opening his mouth and moving a hand to place it behind her head to prolong the kiss.

When he released her, he asked, "Was that a better way for me to respond, my love?"

She kissed his shoulder. "Most definitely."

"Well, Mrs. Holmes, what should we do next?" His hands moved to caress the shapely curves of her bottom.

"You could kiss me some more," she told him coyly, placing her hands on either shoulder.

"Is that all?" he asked in a deep voice, moving his hips against her suggestively, sure of what her answer would be.

Instead of responding in words, she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body tightly against his. The feel of her so close against him was enough to make him start kissing her again, with those slow, lingering kisses as he moved his hands up and down the curves of her body.

He released her lips to say huskily, "I love you, Molly."

"I love you too, Sherlock."

His hands moved along her body again, traversing a path of exploration that caused her to move restlessly above him, mutely demanding more, as she responded to his loving caresses. He responded to her mute plea, making the necessary adjustments, and then there were just the soft sounds and murmurs of two people very much in love as two became one flesh in a union blessed by God.

Afterwards, Molly kissed his chest and laid her cheek against it. His heart was still beating a rapid tattoo from their exertions, and he waited a few minutes until it began to regulate. He moved only to pull the duvet over them, stroked Molly's hair briefly, then wrapped his arms over her soft body, cocooned for once by her warmth. He continued to hold her close as they fell into a contented sleep.

* * *

 **Author's note:** So, I bet you didn't know Molly kissed Sherlock on two occasions when he was unconscious - how dare she? Ha ha.

I hope you enjoyed that little revelation from Molly about the extra kiss and the kiss re-creation. I guess you could say this is one of their earliest re-creations of a scene from their past. I can so clearly imagine Molly being unable to resist the allure of those sensual lips.

Of course, the bulk of this chapter is with Molly writing about the events surrounding the fall. It's always interesting to read different people's interpretations of what happened at that time. Do you have your own theory which you would like to share in a review? I love hearing people's thoughts on what could have happened outside of what we see in canon.


	8. The Funeral and Beyond & Coat Talk

**Author's note:** Just a heads up - there are several references in this chapter to events that occurred during my initial engagement story, and something also from the honeymoon.

* * *

 **Friday, September 1, 2017**

 _Ha,_ thought Sherlock triumphantly, _I solved two cases today without leaving the flat. I think I deserve some "me" time._

Of course that meant another session of reading his wife's diary. He was rather anxious to find out what Molly had written about the time he had spent with her after his faked death. Yesterday's revelation that she had kissed him while he was sleeping had been interesting, It was fun, getting to know Molly in ways he had not expected to learn about her. He was also intrigued to see how her faith came through in her writing as well.

Well, he had some time before she came home. He sent her a quick text.

 _Hope your day is going well, love. I solved a couple easy cases this morning so I am going to now treat myself by reading more of your wedding present._

He read her response.

 _Quiet day. Kaitlyn has asked me to be her maid of homour (I suppose really it will be matron, now I am married) at her wedding to David. Fortunately, they are not in a hurry, so it is only set for next July. By that time I should be able to fit into regular clothes again after our baby is born. Our baby, Sherlock, we're having a baby!_

Sherlock grinned as he read the text. It really was amazing to think that he was going to be a father. First time father at the ripe old age of forty-one. That would be interesting. Thank goodness it would be months before the baby came. They would have to turn the spare bedroom into a nursery. At least they already had a cot-bed, thanks to their babysitting experience with Rosie.

 _I guess we'll have to decide on when to tell the family about the baby_ , he mused. _Perhaps after we have had our first appointment with the midwife_. Speaking of which, he'd need to start researching pregnancy and what to expect. For now though, it was time to read, as soon as he responded to the text.

 _Glad you will be in her wedding. I guess I will be taking care of our baby that day. I'm excited too, sweetheart. Off to read now. XOX_

He waited long enough for Molly to respond with a thumbs up emoji, then picked up the diary, found his reading glasses and began to read.

.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **October**_

 _Well, the funeral is later today. Sherlock has been very quiet while staying here. He doesn't talk much. He did say though that he would disguise himself and go to the funeral service. Just writing this quickly while he is in the shower. Will write more later._

 _I_ _**know I wasn't very sociable to you, my darling. I just had so much research to do in order to find the people who worked with Moriarty, and I didn't need distractions. Thank you for having food and coffee or tea ready for me though. I would probably not have eaten or drunk anything if left to my own devices. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **Later in the day**_

 _The day was even harder than I expected. There were a lot of people at the church, probably mostly fans of Sherlock's._

 _Mycroft was sitting in the front pew of course, but he made excuses for his parents, who were apparently out of the country and unable to return in time for the funeral. I am assuming they know the truth though and did not want to come, in case they didn't look heart-broken enough._

 _I sat with John, Mrs Hudson and Greg Lestrade. It was so hard, seeing their grief-stricken faces. I mean, in the end, it wasn't hard for me to feel that grief too. I know I may never see Sherlock again._

 _It was hard to say goodbye before I left for the funeral. I badly wanted to pour out my heart to him, to tell him I loved him, but it would have served no purpose and probably just made him feel uncomfortable. So instead I put my arms around him and hugged him. Surprisingly, he did more than give me an awkward pat on the back. He actually wrapped his own arms around me and hugged me back. I felt so protected in that moment. I almost fancied he placed a kiss on the top of my head, but it was probably my imagination._

 _When we pulled back from the hug, I did say I'd miss him and he kind of made some flippant comment about my life being undoubtedly more peaceful without him, rather than saying he will miss me as well. I suppose it will be "out of sight, out of mind" for him._

 _I took one more long look at his wonderful features, trying to memorise them before I left, knowing the one thing I can do for him in the future is pray for him._

 _I will continue praying for Sherlock, for his safety, and I will pray that one day he will come to know the Lord. He has such incredible intelligence, and, I believe, a capacity for love he is not even aware of if he would open his heart to it. I just know if he would read the Bible, he would come to understand its truth. From some of our conversations I have determined him to be an atheist and it just breaks my heart. He does so much good in the world, but what does it gain him? In the end, what is the point in doing good if you have no life to go to after this one? You might as well be like Moriarty and just get what you can out of it._

 _So wherever you may be, Sherlock, I am praying for you to stay safe, so that one day you will get a chance to know Jesus as I do._

 _Going back to the funeral service though. The eulogies were so beautiful. Mycroft's of course was very factual, listing what things Sherlock had done in his career. Unsurprisingly, he was dry eyed. I mean, even if he had thought Sherlock to truly be dead, I doubt he would have cried. Greg talked about Sherlock and some of the cases they had done together, what an invaluable resource Sherlock had been to the Yard. He also stated categorically he did not believe for one moment that Sherlock was a fraud. I heard a lot of murmurs of agreement from the people in the pews. I'm guessing those who did not believe in Sherlock would not have attended his funeral._

 _Mrs Hudson came next, talking about how Sherlock had helped send her husband to jail and have him executed in America. She also talked of Sherlock as if he were her son, how she enjoyed looking after him. It was the sweetest thing, I don't think Sherlock has any idea of how much Mrs Hudson cared for him and looked after his welfare. She talked about how she brought him tea every morning when he was home, stuff like that. By the time she finished speaking, I was trying not to cry. She already was._

 _And then came John. Oh, Diary, my heart just ached for him. There was such grief in his face. Sherlock was his best friend. You could tell he cared a lot about him, by the affectionate way he described some of their cases. He talked about a case where Sherlock had used him as an experiment, giving him sugar in his tea, thinking it contained an hallucinogen. That did get a few smiles from people. Even I had to smile. It just goes to show that Sherlock isn't some perfect crime-solving machine. He's human, like the rest of us._

 _John also said it was ludicrous that anyone would think Sherlock was not who he said he was. I did see Anderson and Sally Donovan in the congregation on the other side of the church and man, could you see the guilty looks they exchanged when John said that._

 _I was trying to hold back the tears when I walked up to the front to speak. I didn't say a lot, mainly about working with Sherlock and how brilliant he was with his deductions. Of course, I too said I knew him to be the man I thought he was, as he had said that night in the lab. Then I glimpsed him, right at the back, in a false beard and a beanie. He looked like a homeless man. He smiled at me and nodded, then he left. That's when I really broke down, because I knew he was gone from my life._

 _You see, Sherlock said he had to hide out with Mycroft for another few days, to finalise their plans on what he was going to do next, while he waited for the gravestone to be erected._

 _I told John and Mrs Hudson that I was going to need time to deal with things, that I hoped they understood it would be too painful to see them, and they understood. I don't know about John, but I think Mrs Hudson has always suspected I had a thing for Sherlock._

 _So today I not only lost the man I love, but also two people whom I consider friends. I suppose you could add Greg Lestrade to that list too. I doubt he'll be needing my help with Sherlock no longer there to conduct investigations on corpses. I don't know. Perhaps I'll see him once in awhile. It is probably best to cut ties with mutual friends anyway ,so I don't slip up and reveal that I know Sherlock is alive. I miss him so much already._

 _ **It never struck me until now how much you suffered because of me. I am truly sorry, my love. I asked so much of you, and you never said a word about how your own life would change as a result. I didn't think about how your relationships with our mutual friends would be affected. I was too concerned about myself. That is the kind of man I was back then.**_

 _ **It astounds me that you were praying for me even back then. I'm sure your prayers went a long way towards keeping me safe while I was away, and I thank you for them.**_

 _ **As for being at the funeral service, it was very moving. The Baskerville case, not one of my finest moments when I did that to John. Yep, definitely human failings, even though I acted like a supreme arse a lot of the time.**_

 _ **I found myself almost in tears as well during the eulogies, (don't ever tell my brother that, he'd be shocked that I felt sentiment back then), for the friendships I had to leave behind, for leaving you behind too. I'm glad you saw me. I couldn't tell if you did or not. Oh, my poor love, what I have put you through, it hurts my heart.**_

 _ **I have just enough room on this page to add one more thing. It was not your imagination when I kissed the top of your head. Your hair smelled of that strawberry shampoo and I just followed an impulse. It was my way of letting you go, I think, even if back then I couldn't perceive how much you actually meant to me. But I did know I'd miss you as well, even if I did not express the words aloud. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **November**_

 _Toby's gone. I let him out to do his business and he never came back. I checked all around the neighborhood and no sign if him. He wasn't hurt by any car that I could see, he simply disappeared. I have a theory about what happened. Over the few days that Sherlock was here, Toby, for some inexplicable reason, really took to him. Sherlock pretty much ignored him, so it doesn't make sense, but I have heard that some cats gravitate towards the people who are uninterested in them. After Sherlock left, Toby started moping about. He spent most of his time sleeping on my bed, on the side where Sherlock had slept, barely eating. When he wasn't sleeping, he'd stand by the front door for hours on end, as if he was expecting Sherlock to turn up._

 _Do you know how hurtful it is when your own cat for whom you have cared and lavished affection, just ignores you? I really needed some comfort after Sherlock was gone, but oh no, Toby didn't care about giving me any attention at all. I honestly think when I let him out, he decided to go hunt for Sherlock himself. I am not getting another cat. No more cat lady fantasies for me either._

 _ **I feel terrible that I never knew about your cat until just recently, when I asked about him on the day we moved you to Baker Street. I'm so sorry, darling. I'm sorry too he wasn't there to comfort you in your time of grieving. I hate the thought of you being lonely. I hope you will never be lonely again that way. You won't if I have anything to say about it. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **December**_

 _I've been sleeping on the side of the bed where Sherlock slept since he oeft. It retained his aftershave for quite some time, which I found to be comforting. It was as if he were still close to me. Sometimes I will go to the wardrobe and sniff Sherlock's clothes. He left a Belstaff here, and I may or may not have occasionally wrapped myself in it, just to pretend he was close by. I'm such an idiot, I know. Meena told me I should get another cat to replace Toby. She thinks the reason I am so gloomy is because he's gone. I couldn't admit to her that it is because I miss Sherlock obviously, she would just say Sherlock is dead, and to move on. Meena is not the most sympathetic of persons sometimes._

 _ **You slept on my side of the bed? So that's why you sleep so close to me at night. Just kidding. I love holding you in my arms every night, being as close as we can be. You are my world, Molly Holmes (nearly slipped up and wrote Hooper there - I love seeing your first name written with my last name). Molly Holmes, my wife, the woman I adore.**_

 _ **You would put on my Belstaff? Perhaps when you get home I'll wrap you in one of my extras and kiss your sweet lips. You will look positively adorable in my coat, I think.**_

 _ **Meena, still not my favourite person. I like Kaitlyn much better. Glad you chose her to be in the wedding, and Kayla too of course. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **December**_

 _Christmas has come and gone. I went to church on Christmas Eve and I prayed for Sherlock, wherever he may be, that he is still safe. I still miss him. I wish the heartache would just go away already. I worked on Christmas Day as usual. It is much easier to work when you have no family or friends to celebrate with for the holiday. I didn't even have the heart to put up a Christmas tree. A couple people from church did invite me over to spend Christmas with them, my friend Kayla among them, but I was already scheduled to work anyway, so I declined. I'd just be a downer at any gathering. Christmas is supposed to be such a joyful time of year._

 _I wonder if Sherlock even gives me a passing thought, if I meant anything at all to him. I just wish I could get over him already._

 _ **You prayed for me again? I remember thinking about you at Christmas, mainly regretting the way I had treated you the previous year. Oh, my darling wife, how full my heart is to see these beautiful words of yours, that you continued to pray for me when I was gone. I'll bet you didn't guess you were praying for your future husband did you? I love you, my darling XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _Ah, perfect timing,_ thought Sherlock, as he heard the door open. He returned the diary to its place under the coffee table and walked over to greet his wife.

"How was the rest of your day, love?" Why was his vision blurry? He suddenly realised he was still wearing his reading glasses and reached to take them off.

She smiled up at him, stopping him from removing the glasses. "It was fine. I missed you, though. And now I feel I'd like a kiss from my handsome, studious looking, glasses-wearing husband."

"I missed you too," he said with a chuckle at Molly's words, putting his arms around her and kissing her tenderly. She really had a thing about those glasses.

"You were still reading my diary just now?"

"Yep," he answered, popping the _p_ as usual, taking the opportunity to remove the glasses so he could view his wife properly. "I was reading the essay you wrote the day of my funeral."

Molly blushed. "I did have a lot to write about that day. But I didn't write a whole lot more in the two year period of your absence."

"Yet you prayed for me," he commented, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Of course I did," she responded, regarding him seriously. "I loved you. I love you. I still pray for you, for us, and for our baby."

"I find it amazing that you did so when you did not know if you would ever see me again." He kissed her forehead. "I also read about the way you would wrap yourself in my coat."

Molly gave him a dimpled smile. "It was silly but it made me feel closer to you."

Sherlock took her hand and walked her to the sofa, dropping his reading glasses on the coffee table, then settling Molly onto his lap.

"I think I'd like to see you wearing my coat, with some sexy lingerie beneath," he told her with a sultry glance.

Molly cringed and ducked her head beneath his chin. "That reminds me of what Irene did when I found her here, trying to seduce you."

He stroked her hair, remembering that day which had occurred during their engagement. "Did I ever tell you how much I enjoyed watching you slap her and swear at her?"

Molly tipped her head back to look up at him. "You know I don't typically swear, I save it for extreme circumstances, but she deserved it! Thank God she is in jail where she belongs now."

He nodded his agreement. "Anyway, let's not waste any more time talking about her. I'm more interested in discussing how I'd enjoy seeing my beautiful _wife_ in lingerie under my coat."

"Well, what kind of lingerie are you thinking I should wear?" Molly asked coquettishly, running her fingers along his arm.

He nuzzled her neck and kissed it, feeling her satisfyingly sharp inhalation of breath as he did so. "Let's stay away from the red corset. How about that little black babydoll I gave you that you wore on the last night of our honeymoon? You looked exceptionally - _wicked_ in it. I seem to recall being unable to complete our game of chess as a result."

"Oh," she breathed. "Black under the black coat. I like that."

Sherlock moved a hand along her body. "Want to try it now?" He gave her a suggestive look.

To his surprise and decided disappointment Molly shook her head. "Not now."

"Why not?" he pouted.

She swatted at his wayward hand, which was moving towards the buttons of her blouse. "Because I'm hungry."

"So am I," he growled, switching tack to cup her chin and place a sensuous kiss on her lips.

To his satisfaction, Molly responded, opening her mouth for his kiss, as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

Having her curled in his lap was much too enticing, he reflected, almost groaning when Molly broke off the kiss.

He smiled though when he saw his own desire reflected in her eyes as she said, "Fine, dessert now, dinner later. And I'll wear the lingerie and coat to surprise you another time." She was busily unfastening his buttons as he gave a whoop of triumph and carried his delectable dessert off to the bedroom.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Have you thought about how things would have gone at Sherlock's "funeral"? I really tried to create something believable and I feel sure Molly would have been heartbroken even hearing the eulogies of others, knowing Sherlock was alive, yet dreading him leaving. Sherlock must have remained in London for a few days beyond the funeral because he was there to see John and Mrs. Hudson going to view his headstone. I still think that headstone, while nice, was rather devoid of sentiment, apparently containing only his name. What do you think?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little "fill in the blanks" explanation on what happened after the fall.

Leave your own thoughts on what you think happened. It's fun to share!


	9. Life Goes On & Ginger Nuts for Dessert

**Author's note:** Rating a hard T on my personal scale to be safe due to non-graphic love scene.

* * *

 **Saturday, September 2, 2017**

"Molly," Sherlock called out from his chair to his wife, who was preparing to make a batch of ginger nuts in the kitchen.

"What, honey?" She walked into the sitting room wearing an apron and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you sure you don't need my help with those?" he enquired. "We had fun making them together a couple weeks before the wedding." He smiled at the remembrance. A fun activity that included a good amount of kissing and licking the batter off the wooden spoon.

She leaned over him and kissed his cheek. "No, it's fine. I know you've been eyeing the diary. Go ahead and read some more." She made as if to leave, but he stopped her.

"Uh, do you happen to know where I put my reading glasses?"

Molly rolled her eyes at him. "Probably where you left them as usual."

"Well they aren't on or under the coffee table where they are supposed to be," he complained, frowning a little. He could not think what he'd done with them. He must be getting old. His memory wasn't usually this bad.

"That's because you always just pull them off when you finish reading and drop them wherever you happen to be," Molly pointed out. Then she continued. "Yesterday, though, you were wearing them when I came home from work, remember? They are probably in your pocket."

Sherlock smacked a hand to his forehead and then searched his trouser pocket. He was wearing the same pair as the day before. Triumphantly, he pulled the glasses out. "I can't believe I didn't notice them in there. Thank you, my love. What would I do without you?"

Molly smirked. "You wouldn't be getting a lot of sex."

He stared at her, a little shocked. "Molly!"

Molly coloured slightly. "Sorry, bad joke. I was just thinking of the silly stuff I told you about having a lot of sex, when I was engaged to Tom. I really shouldn't have lied, but oh, was I desperate to see if you even cared one way or another."

Sherlock stood and reached for her hand. "I might have cared, if I'd been fooled, love. It was so transparent to me that you were lying, although of course that didn't mean you were not having sex _at all_. But of course, I also did not have all the necessary information back then, about your faith and moral standpoint on sex before marriage."

She looked up at him searchingly. "You really don't have any regrets that we waited? I know it wasn't easy and I know even some Christians don't necessarily feel so strongly about that these days."

He stroked the back of her hand. "Sweetheart, we made love three times on our wedding night. We've been making up for lost time ever since. I can hardly complain. No, I don't regret waiting, hard as it was. We got to know so much more about each other without the distraction of spending every minute possible, forgive me if I sound a little crass here, shagging. You have to concede, in the four weeks we've been married, we have spent almost all of our spare time getting to know each other's bodies, rather than other things about each other. I think that time before marriage also helped me to learn and understand more about faith than I would have done if we'd been constantly in the bedroom."

He tugged on her hand and sat back down in his chair, inviting her to join him on his lap. She put her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. "You know, I hadn't thought about that, about how that time allowed you to grow so much in your budding faith as well. That makes me feel better, knowing we did the right thing. Your relationship with the Lord grew, just as ours did. But I have to admit, if we had decided to wait eleven months to be married, the way Kaitlyn and David are doing, I'm not sure we would have made it."

Sherlock's lips twisted into a wry grin. "Probably not. You have to remember, for them, waiting a longer time till their wedding day isn't a big factor. They've been sleeping together already for years."

"And you really are okay with the fact that I got pregnant right away? Should we have waited to be married longer?" she asked hesitantly, her voice vibrating against his chest where her face was nestled.

Sherlock lifted his wife's chin and looked into her eyes. "Molly, we've known each other for years. If it weren't for my childhood trauma and subsequent repression of my emotions, we may have been together already for years. We aren't getting any younger. If you were in your twenties, sure, waiting for a family wouldn't have been an issue, but the fact of the matter is - you are older than the majority of women who are having their first baby. Your risk factor increases as you get older, lower fertility, chances of miscarriage. I researched it."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You did?"

he nodded. "Of course. I wanted to see whether having a child at our ages is viable. Fortunately it seems women can get pregnant even in their forties, although the chances of conceiving decrease the longer you wait, and the chances of miscarriage or babies with Down's Syndrome or other issues increase as well."

Molly pressed her lips against his, then said, "I'm glad you researched it for yourself. What...what if our baby does have Down's Syndrome, or some other medical condition?"

Sherlock rubbed her back in reassuring circles. "Sweetheart, if that happened, I wouldn't love our baby any less. Every child is a gift from God, worthy of being cherished. Of course, I want our child to be perfect in every way, but if there are issues, we will just deal with them when the time comes. Our baby will be no less loved as a result."

Molly gave a relieved sigh. "I was pretty sure you'd say that, but I wanted to be sure. I feel the same way. I'm glad we had this talk."

Sherlock placed the reading glasses on the arm of the chair and pressed a hand gently to Molly's belly. "This life growing within you is a blessing, no matter what happens." This time, he was the one to kiss her tenderly. Then he said, "Now, isn't it time you got to making those biscuits?"

"I'm surprised you aren't suggesting we go to the bedroom first," she said, with an impudent grin at him.

"That's because I usually take you to the bedroom _after_ I've been reading your diary. You should know that by now." He gave her a suggestive wink.

She hopped off his lap and he gave her shapely bottom a quick love tap before she headed back to the kitchen.

Sherlock picked up the diary and pulled out the mechanical pencil from the spiral spine which he used to make his comments. He retrieved his reading glasses and settled them on his nose, then proceeded to read.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **September**_

 _I know it has been a long time since I've written in you, Diary, but honestly, I can't find anything meaningful to write about. I mean really, why would I want to write about the television shows I watch in my spare time and the post-mortems I have been doing?. I don't really go out much aside from church and Bible study._

 _My good friend Kayla from church and I get together for coffee once in awhile too, (we are both single and she is only a year older than me). Sometimes we commiserate about our single status. We see each other regularly too at Bible study, although with my schedule I can't go as often as I'd like. Our Bible study group is currently studying Romans . It's such an amazing book of the Bible, but oh, so hard to understand at times. Paul was such a learned man and I think new Christians would find it hard to understand some of what he talks about. His writing is definitely geared more to those who have known and loved the Lord for a long time. We are currently on Romans 6 and discussing being dead to sin and alive in Christ. It is an immense comfort to know that even though we cannot stop ourselves from sinning, having been born into sin, that Jesus' blood cleanses us from our sin._

 _It has been almost a year since Sherlock left. My life is one of routine. I work, I go home. I don't have a cat to take care of anymore. Sometimes I'll curl up and re-read one of my Barbara Cartland novels. Unfortunately they just make me sad, because I know I will never have anyone love me that way. I must say though, some of those stories irk me. All of the men are extensively experienced sexually and the women are innocent virgins. What is it that makes it okay for men to have dozens of lovers and yet women are supposed to be chaste? It's such a double standard! Shouldn't men be waiting for the right woman as well? I know it's a rare man these days who does not have a ton of sexual experience before he finds the right woman and I know realistically that a man who is around my age group would probably have been with several women already and possibly even divorced, perhaps with children of his own. Not many single guys out there it seems._

 _The only reason I'm writing now is to share some news. Meena has left the hospital. She found another job at a different hospital, a higher paying job and has moved away to be closer to her new job. I'll miss her. After all, we went to uni together, and we kept in touch over the years. Of course, she was the one who told me about the job at Bart's too. I know we will keep in touch, but it won't be the same as seeing each other on a regular basis._

 _One piece of good news though, Meena's replacement, Kaitlyn, is really lovely. I think we are going to get along very well. Kaitlyn is the kind of girl who gets along with everyone. She is super friendly and, well, she has no filter about things. She just says what she thinks. I'm looking forward to getting to know her better._

 _ **Really interesting to read about Kayla more and your Bible study group. I do remember when I went through Romans during our engagement, that even I, with my higher than average intellect, had trouble understanding it, so I can well imagine people considering it difficult to understand.**_

 _ **Well, I guess you got that wrong about thinking you'd never be loved in the way those romantic novel heroes love their women, my love. I DO love you that way. Well, I assume I do, not having read one of those novels. Perhaps it's time I read one to see what it is like, where your romantic notions come from. In addition, I have to agree about the double standards for men and women especially in bygone days. I don't believe these days there are as many women out there who keep themselves for marriage the way you did, and I'd venture to say that non-Christians are unlikely to follow that. Even as Christians it is not easy, as we know, but see - you did get a man who had not been with another woman and we know that was through the grace of God. For me the abstinence was unintentional, but I'm so glad that things worked out the way they did. Everything we share has been with one another only, which makes it even more special.**_

 _ **Ah, so this was when Meena left. Interesting. Personally, I like Kaitlyn much better, even if she did try her hardest to get us to lose our bet. Still can't get over how she called it the "chastity bet" on the day she gave you the money! XOX**_

* * *

 _ **October**_

 _Well, it has been a year now since Sherlock left. I am still hopeful that one day his name will be cleared and he will return. I still pray for that frequently. He didn't deserve what happened to him. I wish I had never introduced Jim to him, perhaps then it wouldn't have happened. Maybe Jim, James, I mean, was jealous that Sherlock wasn't interested in him sexually? Who knows? I miss working with Sherlock, and I think London misses him too. There are always stories of crime on the news, and I find myself thinking 'Sherlock would have solved that one by now' when I watch the news._

 _I wonder what Sherlock's doing now? Is he even still alive? Would I feel it in my heart if he had died? I can't help myself, sometimes I still fantasise about him, of him sweeping back into my life wearing that Belstaff of his. I daydream that he kisses me and declares his undying love - what a flight of fancy that is! I have turned down several offers by men to go out with them because I'm just not ready to move on. I guess a tiny part of me is still hoping for a miracle._

 _ **Ah yes, that time coincides with when I pretended to be an abbott at a monastery to expose a woman who had infiltrated a group of Buddhist monks. I was taking a little break from dismantling Moriarty's network. It was a rather fun diversion. As I recall, when I pushed back the woman's hood, she called me a bastard, just as you did, when I asked you to say you loved me anyway, because you had said it was true. And yes, I was being one, forcing you to say it, but you know why now. So, London was not receiving the benefit of my assistance, but I was using my skills elsewhere.**_

 _ **Oh, and the thought of Moriarty being interested in me sexually? That just makes me cringe. I did feel he invaded my personal space on the occasions we met face to face and it was truly awkward.**_

 _ **My poor darling. No going out with anyone in a year? You were still daydreaming of me even a year after my departure? Wow. Wish I had kissed you when I presented myself to you in the locker room that day after my return, but then again, you were engaged to someone else at the time. Speaking of which, I guess the Tom stuff will be coming up soon. I'm a little bit apprehensive about reading how you met and fell in love - or at least cared enough to marry him. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **December**_

 _Well, Christmas has arrived, another lonely one for me. Kayla invited me over for Christmas dinner, but I decided to work instead, so that others have a chance to be with their families. I have no family to speak of. I wonder if my mother and I will ever talk again. Sometimes I wonder if she even thinks about me. I knowI reminded her too much of Dad, and that was hard for her, but she's my MUM. Why did she abandon me? Does she even know I got a doctorate in pathology? I miss my mummy._

 _And on another note, I still miss Sherlock. I'd rather go through that Christmas of two years ago again if it meant I got to see him. That's pretty ridiculous isn't it? That I'd be willing to be insulted again if it meant I'd see him. I'm such a mess. Merry Christmas, Mum and Sherlock, wherever you are._

 _ **My sweet, unselfish Molly. Always putting others ahead of herself when it comes to Christmas.**_

 _ **It really tugs at my heart strings, love, hearing how you missed your mum. I'm so very glad you reconciled before the wedding.**_

 _ **Now I feel bad again about that Christmas and how I behaved. I wish I could think of a way to make it up to you, change the past somehow. If it is any consolation, I didn't have much of a Christmas (not that I wanted to - you know what I thought of it back then). I did wonder though on that day, what my friends were doing and that included you, my love. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock had just finished writing the response to Molly's December entry when he heard the timer go off. He had vaguely been aware that Molly had left the kitchen awhile ago.

"Timer's gone off," he called out, wondering why she wasn't turning it off. Where was she, anyway?

"Oh, do you think you could take the biscuits out of the oven, then? Don't forget to turn the oven off afterwards," she called back from either the bathroom or bedroom, he couldn't be sure.

"Okay," he responded. He went into the kitchen and turned off the timer, the oven itself and then pulled out the two trays of biscuits carefully, setting them atop the stove. _Lovely,_ he thought. _She made a double batch again._ Molly knew how much he loved those biscuits!

Molly's voice drifted towards him again. "When you're done, would you mind coming into the bedroom? I need help with something."

Sherlock walked to the bedroom and stopped short in the doorway. His wife stood there a short distance from him and she was wearing a Belstaff, one of his spares from the wardrobe, obviously. It was so long on her that it touched the ground. His heartbeat immediately accelerated.

Apparently she had decided that today was the day to enact their discussion of the previous day. He swallowed convulsively.

"Well, hello there," she said with a come-hither look that elicited an immediate response from a certain part of his anatomy.

He walked towards her. "Are you going to make me choose between freshly baked biscuits and you?" he asked her as he took her in his arms.

"Possibly." She batted her eyelashes at him.

As if there was even a question as to what he'd choose. The biscuits weren't going anywhere. "That coat does look rather large on you," he told her, reaching to unbutton it.

"Yes, I think it will come in handy when I am heavily pregnant," Molly agreed, tilting her head slightly.

Sherlock finished with the buttons, feeling anticipation at the thought of seeing the black babydoll that she would be wearing beneath. His breath hitched and his mouth dropped open when he slid the Belstaff from her shoulders to discover she was not wearing the babydoll at all. All his delightful wife was wearing was a pair of black crotchless knickers.

He gazed in awe at the sight. She looked extremely alluring. Reverently he reached a hand to caress those naked curves, then he pulled her into his body and began to kiss her desperately. Why did she always have to do this to him? He was out of control.

Molly did not help matters by the noises she made as he continued to move one hand down her body. Her hands reached up to rid him of his own suit jacket and shirt so they were able to press their bodies together, chest to chest.

He continued to kiss her until Molly started tugging at the fastening on his trousers. "Hold on, baby, I'll get it," he told her, deftly removing the rest of his clothes.

They stood there for some time, kissing, caressing each other. When he went to remove those knickers, Molly stopped him. "They're called crotchless for a reason, as you know," she whispered, bringing his thoughts back to their wedding night, and a very sexy display of one of her hen night gifts, and another day on their honeymoon, wearing these very same knickers while he tickled her with a black feather.

"I took them off then, though," he told her, leaning back slightly to look into her face, her eyes heavily lidded and glazed with desire as he knew his were also.

"Well, it was our wedding night when I wore the white ones, and the black ones were only a few days later on our honeymoon. I didn't want any clothes between us," she explained, trailing a small hand along his chest in a delightful manner.

He chuckled, a willing participant to trying new things as Molly continued by pressing her body invitingly against him. It felt strange to feel the fabric of those knickers between them. He decided he would much rather have them removed, but he was playing Molly's game, and what Molly wanted, Molly got.

She pulled him down onto the bed with her, raking her hands through his curls as they lay chest to chest. Sherlock gripped her shoulders, kissing her passionately, feeling those flames rise higher and higher within him. He released one shoulder to move a hand over her breasts in a caressing manner.

Molly gave a very satisfying whimper, as he moulded his hand to those enticing curves. She shifted restlessly beneath him until he could no longer hold himself in check.

They made love with abandon, exulting in one another's bodies, until Sherlock collapsed onto Molly briefly, kissing her again before shifting his body so he was laying next to her.

On the whole, he thought, leaving the knickers on had been a rather interesting experiment, but he definitely preferred the more traditional way of making love, without them. Molly maid no protest as he slid the knickers off, then positioned her so they were spooning in their usual manner.

They had time for a nap before it was time to taste-test the biscuits.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I hope you found it interesting to read a little of Molly's activities during that two year period when Sherlock is away. I feel like she would not have kept writing in her diary as much during that time.

Ah, ginger nuts or love? What a quandary! Hope you enjoyed the little ending scene between the newlyweds!

I anxiously anticipate the response of my fabulous readers. Remember, your reviews feed my creativity and make me want to keep writing these stories!


	10. Moving On With Tom & A Love Song

**Author's note:** Sorry I didn't get this chapter up yesterday. Running errands and then opera last night derailed my plans as I did not finish proof-reading. Heading off to see _Endgame_ shortly and wanted to get this up before leaving. I'm very grateful nobody has spoiled the movie for me LOL.

Putting a hard T rating just to be safe for the love scene at the end of this chapter. Nothing graphic of course, but a whole lot of love :)

* * *

 **Sunday, September 3, 2017**

Molly was having an afternoon nap. She would be starting nightshift at midnight for the first time since they had been married.

With no urgent business to attend to, Sherlock decided to go ahead and read the next few pages of Molly's diary.

Fortunately today his reading glasses were where they were supposed to be, and Sherlock put them on before picking up the diary and beginning to read.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **January**_

 _Happy New Year, dear Diary. I am determined to get out of this funk. For over a year I have allowed myself to dwell on thoughts of how my life might have gone if things had been different. It's time to take stock of my life, re-evaluate._

 _ **Uh-oh, the Tom stuff is coming up soon, I kind of wonder if I should really be reading about him at all. Isn't it invasion of your privacy? But then again, you did give me the diary, so I guess you know what you're doing. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **February**_

 _I looked at my previous entry, so full of enthusiasm, so full of hope. What a load of rubbish. Thank God I have church to keep me sane. I don't know where I'd be without faith. I know that God has a plan for me, even if I can't see it. Perhaps it is His will for me to never marry, but become a wise elder in the church, expounding wisdom to the young people of the church, encouraging them in their Christian walk. I am reminded of the words from "Power of Your Love" which say - "_ _ **Lord, renew my mind, as your will unfolds in my life, in living every day by the power of your love."**_ _perhaps I'll become like old Alice Benson who sits at the back of the church and refuses to sing to any of the modern worship songs. No, I'm kidding, That would never happen. I must admit, I'm not too fond of her. There's just something about the way she seems to look down on people and she is always frowning when there is any disruption in church by a crying baby or the like, as if the parents are to blame. I wonder what makes someone become so bitter? Is it because she has never married? I would never want to be like that._

 _ **Sweetheart, I love the way you talk about your faith even in this diary. I can't believe you thought you might never marry. Actually I can't believe you were willing to wait for me. Any man would've been blessed to have a wife like you. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **March**_

 _Well, guess what? I met somebody tonight._

 _Let me backtrack a bit. Kaitlyn invited me to go out to a pub for a drink, to celebrate my birthday. I'm not really much of a drinker, but she insisted, so I thought, why not?_

 _We had been there for half an hour when I felt my stomach drop. I spotted someone at the other end of the bar, someone with curly hair, wearing a coat, it looked like a Belstaff. I was sure it was Sherlock, somehow come to town and my mouth went dry. I stared, trying to see better in the dim light and the man turned around. I immediately realised, to my extreme disappointment and embarrassment, that it was not Sherlock at all. It was a guy I had never seen before._

 _Anyway, I guess he noticed me staring in his direction and he came on over to where I was sitting. Kaitlyn made herself scarce as soon as she saw him approaching. I suppose she realises I haven't been out with a guy since she started working at Bart's and wanted to give me a chance to meet someone._

 _Anyway, we got to chatting. He said he'd seen me looking at him and I just told him he reminded me of someone I once knew and that I was sorry for staring. He didn't seem bothered by it, though. He asked my name and I asked his. His name is Tom. He has hair that goes over his forehead in a similar manner to Sherlock's, and I must admit, that kind of intrigued me. I was always obsessed with Sherlock's hair, not that he had any clue about that._

 _Anyway, Tom bought me a drink. He's a few years younger than me, so it kind of made me feel a bit special that he was paying attention to me. I've never gone out with a younger man before. He asked me out to dinner next week and I accepted. I figured, why not? Kaitlyn is always telling me I need to get out and socialise more. Oh, and Tom is very tall. He's a whole foot taller than I am. So yeah, I'm moving on, Diary, isn't that great?_

 _ **Well, it is interesting to read the circumstances of how you met. I can't help feeling a bit pleased that you were disappointed at first that it wasn't me. I have to admit, I do feel a little jealous reading about Tom. He was an important part of your life for awhile. I remember you saying you met him through friends. I guess you meant that you were with a friend when you met him. There I was, thinking you had been painting the town red with a group of mysterious friends I'd never heard of before. Just goes to show I am not always right in my thinking. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **March**_

 _Oh, I have to share this with you, Diary. Today at church I received a little present from George and Roxanne. They are a very nice, middle aged couple who came here from America. Roxanne used to be a pathologist so we have sometimes talked about things. Anyway, George and I sing on the praise team at church occasionally. I only get to do that once every couple of months because I hate to commit to something too far in advance when I might get called to do an extra shift at the hospital, so I kind of just sing if they are desperate because people are away on holidays or something. Anyway, George gave me a CD. He told me it was a professional recording of a song composed by one of his fellow church members in America. There is a version with her singing it and also with the accompaniment only. This friend of his apparently sang the song to her husband at their wedding, isn't that romantic?_

 _Anyway, when I got home, I put it in my CD player and listened to it. The words are so beautiful and they certainly would make for a good wedding song. The woman who sang it is a professional opera singer as well. The song is called "In His Love", and my favourite parts are the chorus and the bridge. The chorus says:_

" _ **Take my hand and never let me go, 'cause I truly believe that God meant us to be. With our hearts forever we can show, in the light of God's love, as it shines down upon us, it's a blessing we know, that forever we will grow, in His love."**_

 _Such a lovely Christian song! Oh, and the bridge says:_ " _ **Body and soul joined as one, my fears for the future are gone. With you now my life is complete. You are the other half of me."**_ _That's what I pray God will give me. Perhaps I'll sing it on my wedding day if I ever get married. Oh, I just thought of something, there's a lovely couple at church, Abigail and Caleb who are getting married soon. They have asked me if I'd sing at their wedding while they sign the register. I was so honoured, but they didn't have a song in mind. I winder if this one would fit the bill? I'll have to play it for them and ask._

 _ **Why didn't you tell me about this song, Molly? It sounds perfect for us. I think I will have to ask you to sing it for me if you still have it. Oh, Caleb and Abigail who sang at our wedding? Something else you never thought to tell me. It is fun to keep learning new things from you. I hope you will say in your diary if you do sing for their wedding! XOX**_

* * *

 _ **April**_

 _I spoke to Abigail at church this morning and played that "In His Love" song for her. She loved it and said it would be perfect and yes, I should definitely sing it! I already sent back the acceptance for their wedding reception. It was a little bit sad that I had nobody to invite to accompany me, especially as I have just met someone new, but then, I'd feel a bit weird asking someone I barely know to go to a wedding reception with me. So, single I shall be for it! Anyway, I have a month to practice the song and I'm both nervous and excited about it. It is the first time I've been asked to sing at a wedding!_

 _Oh, in other news, Tom took me out tonight for dinner and it was nice. It wasn't an expensive restaurant. He told me he works in his dad's jewellery store. It's a family business. I told him about my job. He wasn't repulsed, which was fortunate, but he also wasn't too interested either. That's okay too, I'm not particularly interested in the ins and outs of working in a jewellery store either. Anyway, it was a much more successful date than the one I had years ago with Jim Moriarty with all his questions about Sherlock. Thank goodness Tom is interested in me. He asked me out again next weekend, and I accepted. Let's face it. I'm not getting any younger. I guess we'll see where this leads._

 _ **Oh, I will be most anxious to hear about you singing at the wedding. Now you have me even more curious about that song!**_

 _ **I have to say this, you really didn't have much in common with Tom, did you? I love the way we can work together side-by-side at the hospital. We understand medical terms and can talk about them. I suppose a lot of people do have completely different jobs from their partners, but I like the fact that you are highly intelligent, as well as completely captivating. You were definitely too smart for Tom. You were meant for me, baby. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **May**_

 _Tom and I have been out a few times now. His favourite time is the weekend, when he gets to go out with his mates in the evening to the local pub. He likes me to come along, but I feel a bit uncomfortable, to be honest. While I don't mind the occasional glass of wine or a cocktail, I'm really not much of a drinker. I don't like that feeling when you've had too much to drink. I certainly don't want to lose control of my faculties._

 _I don't know, I feel like I'm being swept along in a direction I wasn't expecting. I do like Tom, and he introduced me to his family last week. They seem really nice. Tom has even kissed me on a couple occasions. I guess it's just my romantic nature from reading too many of those stupid Barbara Cartland novels. I guess I thought there would be more, how should I say it – passion? Tom is solid and dependable. He might not have much money, goodness knows that more than half the time I pay when we go out anywhere, but he works hard in the store full-time. I feel like there's something missing, but again, I think it's because I've let myself become carried away by thoughts of romance and passion because of those novels. Perhaps I should just throw them away and face the fact that reality isn't all hearts and flowers._

 _ **My poor darling, it sounds to me as if Tom was trying to fit you into his lifestyle, wanting you to be the kind of woman who would enjoy the weekends at the pub like he did. He should have put you and your needs first if he was serious about you. I know what was missing - it was the fact that you weren't with the man God created you for - me. I hope our love has restored your faith in those romance novels of yours. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **May**_

 _Today was Caleb and Abigail's wedding. It was such a beautiful spring day for them and Abigail looked absolutely radiant as she walked down the aisle towards Caleb. I had tears in my eyes. Abigail was just glowing and her smile lit up the church. That is the way I want to feel when I get married, if it ever happens. They love each other so much. It's rather ironic in that I was writing in my last entry that my relationship with Tom lacks passion. I suppose some people are destined for more passionate relationships and others are content with ones that offer security and companionship._

 _Anyway, I sang the song and it went off really well. I bought a nice dress with yellow flowers on it for the wedding and I had a big bow in my hair. I felt really pretty, but I didn't really participate much during the reception. I did get asked to dance by a couple unattached guys, but I felt it would be disloyal to Tom, seeing as I now consider him my boyfriend. Oh well, at least if I get asked to any more weddings I now have an outfit to wear for it! It was still a lovely day and I was very happy for my friends._

 _ **Hmmm, the dress you describe sounds rather familiar, I assume it is the one you wore for John and Mary's wedding. It would make sense as I doubt any of the same people would have attended both weddings, so at least you got the use of your dress more than once. You did look exceedingly becoming in that dress, as I've told you before. I'm glad your singing of the song went well too. I want to hear it now more than ever! XOX**_

* * *

 _ **June**_

 _I know I haven't written much, but really there isn't much to tell. Even though I have a boyfriend now, we do the same things whenever we go out. We go out for a meal, which I more often than not pay for, and then usually he wants to go to the pub afterwards. We don't get together during the week because I never know my schedule far enough in advance to make any concrete plans._

 _Last night Tom tried to put his hand on my breast through my blouse and I pushed him away. He seemed a bit put off. After all we've been going out together now for about three months. I just felt a bit uncomfortable. Maybe in a few months that won't be an issue anymore. I did tell Tom about my faith and the fact that I want to be a virgin on my wedding night. He seemed to understand, but I feel he would really like to try and make me change my mind. He did make a comment that once I've had sex I'll really enjoy it. I'm guessing that means his previous relationships have been sexual ones. I nearly told him that I didn't want to have sex, that I wanted to make love, but then I figured he would interpret that as an invitation. Once again, those Barbara Cartland novels are influencing me. The heroes in those novels always make love, it's never about sex. Why am I such an incurable romantic? It's such a waste of time._

 _ **Thinking of Tom touching you makes me feel a little jealous, I'll admit it. I'm glad he didn't force his attentions on you, but he should also not have made you feel uncomfortable for having your own views. I hope you don't ever think I would've pressured you in that way. I respected you too much even before I was a believer. I see we were on the same page in regard to the differences between having sex and making love, despite that quip of yours about "having a lot of sex." I will always make love to you, my darling. Now I think it is your turn to read what I have written, so that I can carry you off to do just that afterwards. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock set the diary and his reading glasses onto the coffee table, then looked at his watch. It was time for dinner. He decided to head to Joe's Fish Shop for some chips, and allow Molly some more time to sleep.

As he walked, he thought again about Tom. Tom, the young man who had tried to replace him in Molly's heart. He was sincerely grateful that he had not been away from London for an even longer period of time. If he had found Molly married, he wasn't sure what he would've done. He supposed he would've led a lonely and solitary existence. Only Molly could ignite the passion within him. Only Molly gave him the unconditional love that he gave back to her.

He walked into the fish shop and was greeted by Joe himself. It was the first time he had frequented the shop since returning from his honeymoon.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes, it's so good to see you again. I saw the pictures in the papers from your wedding. I'm sure it was lovely."

"It was everything I could have dreamed of," said Sherlock, smiling warmly at the older man.

Without being asked, Joe set to work making Sherlocks usual extra large serving of chips. While the chips were in the deep fryer, Joe engaged Sherlock in conversation.

"So you have recently come back from your honeymoon?" enquired the older man.

"Indeed we have," confirmed Sherlock. "Well, it has been three weeks already, but Molly returned to work two weeks ago."

"Ah yes, I saw the news this past week. You have already been busy catching murderers since you've been back," noted Joe.

Sherlock chuckled. "I guess crimes just follow me around."

"As long as you keep your nights free for your lady wife," said Joe with a grin and a wink.

"Most definitely," responded Sherlock agreeably.

Joe went to the fryer and lifted the chips in their basket. As usual they were perfectly done. Sherlock watched as the older man salted the chips with the signature chicken salt he imported from Australia, then put them in a large cardboard container for him to take home.

Sherlock paid for the chips, then walked back home, eating a couple of them on the way.

Back in the flat, he set the chips on the kitchen table and went to the bedroom to wake Molly.

He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to set his lips to Molly's in a tender kiss, after which he whispered, "Sweetheart, it's time for dinner. I bought us some chips."

Molly opened her eyes and smiled sleepily. "You did? Thanks honey."

He left her to get dressed and set the chips onto plates for them. She entered the kitchen in her pink chemise for modesty and he looked at her appreciatively, knowing she had not bothered to dress properly because she planned to take a shower before work. Of course, he would not have objected to seeing her sit there topless, but that may have been a bit _too_ distracting.

Shortly afterwards, as they sat and ate together in the kitchen, Sherlock said to Molly, "I was reading your diary while you were sleeping. I think it's time you read my comments again."

"Okay," she agreed. "I have plenty of time before I have to get ready for work."

After they finished eating, the couple sat on the sofa and Sherlock handed Molly her diary. As she read, he turned on the television and flipped through the channels. Finding nothing of interest, he decided to take a shower. Afterwards, he shaved and put on a pair of boxers, not bothering to dress further.

Molly looked up when he entered the sitting room. "You were writing about that song I sang. I had completely forgotten about it. It was two years ago, after al." She quirked her lips. "The disc is in my bedside drawer I think. I'm probably a bit rusty, but I could sing it for you if you like?"

Sherlock smiled. "I'd like that very much. I can play the disc in my laptop."

"Okay. I'll get it."' Molly left the room and returned a couple minutes later, holding a disc case. She presented the CD to Sherlock who inserted it into his laptop.

Then he sat and listened to his wife sing for him for the first time since their wedding day. Watching her sing for him, wearing just a chemise and knickers was rather - _stimulating_. She had been right, it was a beautiful, fitting song for a wedding, although the first line did not really fit their situation.

" _You came into my life out of nowhere and offered your help as a friend."_ No, he had not been a friend in the beginning, it would have been more appropriate for Molly to change the words to "and I offered my help as a friend."

When Molly had finished singing, he gathered her in his arms. "Thank you, my darling. That was absolutely beautiful." He kissed her tenderly running his hands along the silky fabric of her chemise, then released her reluctantly. Her scantily clad body was tempting him most alarmingly. "Now finish reading while I put the disc and my laptop away."

Molly obediently returned to the sofa, folding her legs beneath her and continued to read while Sherlock returned the disc to its case, sat in his chair and thought again what a beautiful voice his wife had.

A few minutes later, Molly dropped the diary unceremoniously on the coffee table, stood and walked towards him, saying, "Yes, Sherlock you have restored my faith in romance. You know you're my romantic hero."

She reached him,plopped herself onto his lap and slid her arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his naked torso. Then she looked up at him seductively through her lashes. "Well, are you going to carry me to the bedroom now or not?"

Sherlock needed no further invitation. He placed an arm beneath her knees and supported her back with his other arm, lifting her easily and carrying her to the bedroom, laying her down gently upon the bed.

He kissed her thoroughly, even as he pushed up her chemise and she lifted her arms so he could remove it completely. Then he was kissing those breasts that the unfortunate Tom had been denied access to, gently suckling those rosy peaks until Molly moaned and clutched at his hair. "Enough, Sherlock," she gasped, and he raised his head, kissing her lips once more, as his hands continued their exploration.

He slid his hands over her skin, marvelling at its softness, touching her belly reverently, knowing there was life growing within her, a life that he knew he would already give his own for. Then he caressed her hips before continuing his ministrations further. Her sounds of pleasure spurred him on until she was begging him again, this time to be with her.

At last, he too found his own pleasure in the sweet fulfillment provided by their joining as one, and bliss settled over them both as he held her close in the aftermath of their passion.

It was with some regret that Sherlock had to release his hold on Molly soon afterwards. While he was prepared to stay in bed with her all night, she had to get ready for work.

The sleepiness afforded by the release of endorphins faded away as he watched Molly grab her clothes and head to the bathroom.

She showered and Sherlock got out of bed, put on his boxers and dressing gown, then went into the kitchen. He made a coffee for both of them, offering Molly's to her when she exited the bathroom. They chatted quietly until it was time for her to leave.

When Sherlock was alone in the flat, he returned to bed, then realised what a mistake it had been to drink that coffee. For the first time since their marriage the space beside him in the bed was empty. He simply could not sleep without Molly next to him.

 _I can't sleep without you in bed beside me,_ he texted to Molly, who texted back a suggestion that led to a very interesting dream.

* * *

 **Author's note:** If you are one of my readers who prefers to read my stories in chronological order timeline-wise, this is where Sherlock has a dream in the story I entitled _Forced to Marry_.

If you have not read it, feel free to check it out. Even though it is a completed work, please know I still appreciate getting reviews on my older stories as well. There is no time limit as to when reviewing becomes obsolete!

So, what did you think about the introduction of Tom to the story. I have some major revelations about him coming in a future story that takes place during this time period of Sherlock reading the diary, but I will only publish it in the correct chronological timeline so it will be a couple weeks yet.

In addition, this chapter contains information about a song called _In His Love._ It is in fact a way to insert myself into the story a little. I wrote the song and sang it for my husband on our wedding day with a basic piano version of it, then I made a professional recording of it later. I'm considering whether I should look into getting it onto iTunes. Would you be interested in hearing it?


	11. Shocking Proposal and Return & Myc Visit

**Author's note:** The case Sherlock has just finished at the beginning of this chapter will be addressed in a two-shot story of which I may publish the first part later this week.

* * *

 **Wednesday September 6, 2017**

Sherlock sank into his chair with a sigh of relief, holding Molly's diary and a pencil to write comments below her entries as usual. The flat was very quiet and he knew Molly would be asleep as she usually was when she was working the night shift. It had been a very busy two days and he had barely seen her. Greg Lestrade had called him into Scotland Yard for a consultation on a case. Initially he had thought it to be simple, but the additional corpse and two extra suspects as a result had made it a seven, rather than the four he had initially thought. Fortunately, Sherlock detected the presence of a certain breed of dog hair on the one suspect's jacket, hair that could only have been there if he had been in the second dead man's house, and the culprit had been arrested. The two days of searching crime scene locations for clues and interrogating the suspects however, had been rather draining.

Sherlock was also disappointed that his long hours, along with Molly's, had meant they had also not made love in the past two days.

Now he decided he would relax by reading some of the diary entries until she woke up in what he estimated would be an hour, at eight o'clock. He put on his reading glasses, found the correct page and was about to start reading when the sound of the doorbell disturbed him. He knew Mrs. Hudson was home so he did not bother to answer. A minute later Sherlock groaned when he heard the sound of his brother's footsteps ascending the stairs. What was Mycroft doing here?

He dropped the diary and pencil, returned the glasses to the coffee table beside them and walked to the door, then flung it open and was about to ask the question, when he saw that Mycroft was holding his violin case. _My violin. I haven't even thought about it since I played it at the wedding reception,_ he thought. Of course, music had been the least of his priorities over the past several weeks.

"Hello, brother mine," Mycroft greeted. "I was wondering if you were ever going to have need of this again? It has been at my house now for a month."

Sherlock's lips quirked. "Yes, well, I've had other things on my mind lately." He took the violin case from Mycroft and set it in its place in the corner of the room. He noted that his music stand was looking decidedly dusty from disuse. Mrs. Hudson was slipping in her usual "not a housekeeper" duties. Then he suddenly remembered he had a wife now. Time to discuss with Molly who was in charge of dusting, he supposed. _Do I even own a duster?_ he wondered idly, then returned his attention to Mycroft. "Thank you. I'm surprised you didn't leave it here along with the wedding presents when you brought them over after the reception."

Mycroft pursed his lips. "To be honest, I did not think of it at the time. Then, seeing as I had the instrument, I decided to have it looked at professionally and had new strings put on it."

"That was very thoughtful of you," said Sherlock, feeling impatient to get rid of his brother so he could get to reading the diary. "Is that all?"

Mycroft looked around. "And where is your lovely wife? I thought I'd say hello, make sure she is still keeping you in line. Or is she already disappointed with you?"

Sherlock felt his face burn as anger rose within him. "Why would you think Molly would be disappointed in me?" he asked acidly.

"Well, the honeymoon is over after all, and life must return to normal at some point. Perhaps the bloom is off the rose?" Mycroft's lips twitched in amusement and Sherlock knew he was not really serious, but still, he felt the need to defend himself.

"That is preposterous, and you know it, Mycroft. For your information, we are very happy, especially in regard to our quite _frequent_ sexual activity," he told his brother, folding his arms. He couldn't resist adding, "Furthermore, you're going to be an uncle in about eight months."

Mycroft's reaction was less than enthusiastic. "Well, congratulations, brother mine. I suppose that means I am going to be expected to learn how to deal with children in future, if I am to take on the role of benevolent uncle."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That's all you have to say about it? I tell you Molly is pregnant, and you grumble about being an uncle and what it entails?"

Mycroft gave a superior sniff. "What did you expect me to do? Should I have applauded over the fact you have proven your, ahem - parts are in working order and were not rendered sterile after your previous drug use?"

Sherlock glared at his brother and was about to respond when he caught sight of Molly out of the corner of his eye. Their conversation had obviously awoken her, and she was wearing his blue dressing gown. She walked to Sherlock, sliding an arm about his waist and said, "Hello, Mycroft, everything about your brother is in perfect working order, and I have no complaints whatsoever." She looked up at Sherlock and smiled and he relaxed his posture, giving her a tender return smile. He did enjoy it when Molly came to his defence.

Mycroft tilted his head. "Oh, hello, sister mine, my apologies. I did not mean to offend. I was only teasing my brother a little. You know, brotherly affection and all that. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you," Molly responded sweetly. "Please don't tell anyone about this. We 'were' planning to wait at least until we had heard our baby's heartbeat before making the announcement." She gave Sherlock a reproachful look.

"Sorry, love. It just slipped out," Sherlock said penitently.

"Well, I did only come here to deliver Sherlock's violin, so I will be going now just in case you feel like having a row about it," said Mycroft with a little smile. "I am delighted for both of you, and I will keep your secret. Goodbye for now."

With that, Mycroft turned and left the flat, closing the door softly behind him. Sherlock listened to him walk down the stairs, then Molly commented, "I think he was a bit ashamed of his treatment of you, Sherlock. So why did you feel the need to blurt out that we're having a baby?"

"Mycroft gave me such a hard time about us wanting to wait till our wedding night to consummate our relationship, and he gave me such grief about being a forty year old virgin, that I had to throw it in his face that I could actually perform the act consistently, even after a month, and get you pregnant as well," Sherlock explained, hoping she wouldn't be too cross.

To his surprise, Molly laughed. "You men and your egos!" she said, dissolving into giggles again. At Sherlock's offended look, she stopped and wrapped her arms about his neck. Then she pulled him down for a steamy kiss. "Waiting just made it all the sweeter, my love," she stated, once their lips parted. "So, how was your case? Did you manage to wrap it up?"

"I did," he responded, "and I was planning to read your diary until you got up, but now that you are-"

She looked at him coyly. "Yes?"

For response, Sherlock untied the belt to the dressing gown and slid it off her shoulders, revealing that she was naked beneath, and he caught his breath.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "I can't believe you had the nerve to walk in here and talk to my brother wearing a dressing gown and nothing else."

Molly smirked. "Well, I heard the doorbell, and I was in a bit of a hurry to see what was going on. You know we sleep naked so it seemed rather impractical to put clothes on. Besides, I have to take a shower."

Sherlock raked a glance over his wife's very sexy body. "In that case, mind if I join you? I was in need of a shower myself."

Instead of responding, Molly began to unbutton his suit jacket followed by his shirt.

He worked at unfastening his trousers and kicked off his shoes. Then he hopped on one leg followed by the other to remove his socks as they headed towards the bathroom. His boxers soon followed.

Once in the shower he kissed Molly passionately, holding her close to him, feeling the water coursing over their bodies. Making love in the shower was not as comfortable as in bed, but after two days of abstinence, it was still very satisfying. It was also a very convenient way to cool their bodies afterwards.

Sherlock also enjoyed the sweet intimacy of washing Molly's body and feeling her wash his own. He had to constantly remind her that she had to use soap on him, not her body wash. Much as he loved the jasmine vanilla sent on her, he didn't particularly care for it on his own body. There was something to be said though for the way her loofah sponge created a nice lather. It definitely did a better job that using a flannel or his hands to turn the soap over and over when he washed himself. "I may have to get one of these for myself," he commented, as he scrubbed Molly's back. "But not in pink."

Molly giggled and turned around once he had finished. "Not manly enough for you, huh?"

"Definitely not," he agreed. "Perhaps I will look on Amazon for a colour that befits my manly status." He smirked and raised his arms into a "manly pose", showing off his arm muscles, as Molly laughed.

Then she took her turn, scrubbing his back, using soap on her pink loofah. It still had a slight jasmine vanilla residue, of course. Yes, he definitely needed his own loofah. _Perhaps I should even invest in some male scented body wash,_ he mused as he assisted Molly out of the shower before exiting himself and they towelled themselves dry.

"Would you like me to braid your hair for work?" asked Sherlock, once they were both dressed.

"That would be lovely," responded Molly with a smile.

Soon afterwards, she settled herself on the floor in front of his chair and he wove her hair into a tight braid, with her help as an extra hand. He would have to keep practicing so he could do it without her assistance, he reflected. If they had a daughter, perhaps he would one day braid her hair as well. He did find it quite an enjoyable experience and Molly seemed to enjoy it as well.

"Thank you, darling," she said, standing once he was finished and settling herself onto his lap for a tender kiss as he rubbed her back. Every time she sat on his lap it provoked an automatic response by his all-too-willing body, so he didn't allow her to prolong it. They still needed to eat dinner, after all. So much for reading the diary this evening. It would have to wait.

In the end, he didn't get to read the diary until Molly left for work, not that he would complain about the second round of love-making which helped to make up for the two days of enforced abstinence. After reading that novel a few nights earlier, which led to that interesting dream where he had been a marquis, Sherlock decided that reading the diary might work as a sleep aid. He settled himself into bed with the diary and his pencil at the ready to make comments, took out his extra pair of reading glasses from the top drawer of his bedside table and began to read.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **September**_

 _Well, Diary, I haven't written in you for a few months. I've been busy with work and going out on the weekends with Tom. He still lives with his parents which is probably a good thing, otherwise I feel sure he would want me to stay overnight with him. The family does seem to like me as well. In fact, Tom's parents are really nice too. They always make me feel welcome when I come over for a meal and a night of Telly. They are rather enthusiastic fans of the Chelsea football team. I honestly could never get into it. Kicking a ball from one side of a huge playing field to another in order to get it into a net bores me, but I pretend to enjoy it for Tom's sake. Guess I'm not really a sports person, although I did used to watch the cricket on occasion with my dad while growing up._

 _Tonight though, it was Tom's birthday and I was invited over for the family celebration. Something very unexpected happened. His parents kept looking at me oddly throughout the meal and I suspected something was going on. Little did I know that he had everything planned. After dinner, his mum brought out a birthday cake. I thought it was sweet that there were three candles lit on the cake, one to represent each ten years of his life. It's a bit embarrassing to think I'm a few years older than he is at times. Anyway we sang happy birthday and afterwards his mum said, "Make a wish, Tom."_

 _Instead of closing his eyes and making a quiet wish to himself, he said, "I wish… that Molly Hooper would marry me." Then he blew out the candles and reached into his pocket and showed me a ring. I didn't know what to say. To be honest I felt put on the spot. His parents were looking at me expectantly, with smiles on their faces, so I said what I felt I had to. I said yes._

 _His parents and his two sisters cheered and then we were all kissing and hugging and they were congratulating Tom and me. Even the dog seemed to know what was going on because he came up and licked my hand. Tom put the ring on my finger and I looked at it. It's very pretty, but I feel this curious sensation in my stomach. Tom has told me he loves me and I have felt obligated to say it back. I do love him in a way. I'm scared though, because I don't know if I'm in love with him, and I know why that is. I'm scared that I haven't really laid my feelings for Sherlock to rest. But Sherlock's gone and the die is cast. It has been almost 2 years already since I've seen him, and I have pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I will probably never see him again, but a tiny part of me was still hoping. Now that Tom has proposed and I've said yes though, the door has closed on whatever the future might have held if he were to come back._

 _I have come to realise that time is passing me by. If I spend my life pining after one man, I'll never have the family that I want, and I do want children so much, I want to be a mother. My heart aches for it. Is it weird that I keep trying to put out of my mind the fact that having children with Tom means we will need to sleep together? Well, I plan on having a long engagement. I'm not sure he will want that, given that he obviously wants sex, but if he loves me, he will wait for me._

 _ **Not a football fan, eh? Neither am I. Sports have never really held my interest, although I did participate in cricket as a young lad at school.**_

 _ **It was interesting for me to read about how you became engaged. Even though it hurts to know that you made a commitment to someone else, I know I have no right to feel that way. At the same time, I admit that I can't help feeling a little bit glad that you had your doubts. If I was reading this as an outsider, I'd be questioning whether you were marrying the right man. At the same time I can understand your desire to have a family. It sounds like Tom's family was also very nice. May I say I am very grateful you didn't want a long engagement with me? 10 1/2 weeks was still too long (but of course, you were worth the wait, my darling one)!**_

 _ **Almost forgot to mention that I am very relieved that you will be having a family of your won with me, rather than Tom. You are going to be a wonderful mother. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **October**_

 _Oh dear God, just when I thought things were moving on in my life, the worst, or maybe it was the best thing happened. Sherlock is back. A few days ago, I was at Tom's place watching another boring football game with his family when it was interrupted by a news broadcast revealing that Sherlock's name had been cleared after almost two years of investigation into Richard Brook's past and the revelation that he was indeed really Moriarty, the master criminal whom Sherlock had claimed him to be. Even Tom made a comment that he knew Sherlock was innocent. I wonder what he'd think if I told him I knew Sherlock? Anyway, I was so relieved to hear Sherlock's good name had been restored._

 _Anyway, today when I was about to leave work I opened my locker door to put my lab coat away when I saw Sherlock's reflection. I swear, my heart skipped a beat, and I wondered whether I was hallucinating. I turned around and there he was, large as life. He smiled at me and I couldn't help myself. I ran to him and hugged him as hard as I could. To be honest, if I weren't engaged to somebody else, I probably would've kissed him, split lip and all, my heart was so full of emotion. I could never do that to Tom though. Sherlock didn't say much, just reassured me that he was back for good and that he needed to get some things sorted out. He said we had things to discuss and that he would call on me when the time came. I don't know what that was all about, but I guess I'll find out. Why couldn't he have come back a month ago? I feel like my world has suddenly been turned upside down._

 _ **Ah yes, Mycroft did work tirelessly to exonerate me. It is rather nice to know that your former fiancé believed in my innocence as well.**_

 _ **I wonder what I would've done if you had kissed me. I'm glad you didn't though, because I know you would've felt guilty about it afterwards, being engaged to Tom. I still remember you telling me about that dream you had where you did kiss me, but of course, in that particular scenario, we had already been intimate and shared a past together - a rather passionate one, if I remember correctly from your account of the dream ;) XOX**_

* * *

 _ **November**_

 _I should be writing about how happy I am with Tom and our engagement, but my heart is breaking. Today was both the best and worst day of my life. I got a text this morning from Sherlock asking me to come to Baker Street. I didn't have work today so I went straight over there. It was really weird how he walked to me and he asked if I wanted to solve crimes. Foolishly I started to ask if he wanted to have dinner at the same time. I don't even know why I said that, maybe it was the look in his eyes, so intense as he walked towards me._

 _Anyway, it seems that he and John are not speaking. That's understandable, because John thought he was dead. Of course John is the one who gave him the split lip last month, and I can't say I really blame him. I'd be pretty upset too if my best friend faked his death and didn't tell me about it, then reappeared unexpectedly two years later. Mind you, I don't approve of the apparently violent way John behaved. Sherlock asked if I'd be his assistant, do John's role, and I agreed. To be honest I was desperate to spend some time with him. I've missed him so much, more than I ever knew._

 _I filled in as assistant for a while, then we headed off to aid in an investigation that Greg Lestrade called in for Sherlock, which turned out to be a hoax. After that we went to see a man named Shilcott who had an interesting story about a man who disappeared from the Tube. It was most intriguing. During the whole time we were there, I felt this sort of connection with Sherlock. He kept looking at me and my heart melted every time. It was almost like we had a little secret. I can't explain it but I felt this closeness to him that I had never felt before._

 _After we left the train guy's flat, Sherlock asked if I wanted some chips. I suppose he remembered my earlier little line about having dinner. Anyway, when I questioned him as to why he wanted to spend the day with me, he said he wanted to say thank you for everything I did for him. He told me I was the person that mattered the most to him. It was this look in his eyes, they were so soft. My heart was positively pounding. And then he noticed my engagement ring. I told him about Tom and he said, "I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it." Then he gave me the sweetest kiss on the cheek I've ever had. He left me then and I came home and cried for an hour. Now I'm writing just to get my feelings on paper. I think I've made the biggest mistake in the world. I think I'm engaged to one man, when I might possibly still be in love with another. I feel so horrid right now, like Im the worst kind of person for feeling this way_.

 _ **Another worst day and best day, sweetheart? you are repeating yourself. Just teasing :P (Is that the right way of doing a stuck out tongue in text format? I can't just pick an emoji when writing by hand.) Incidentally, when did emoticons become emojis? I think I am getting old, but I digress, sorry about that. I am beginning to take on your own tendency to go off on a tangent ;) (I know that is the winky face in text format at least.)**_

 _ **My darling, my sweet, that day is one I remember so well. Do you realise it was the most time we ever spent together in one day? I felt so comfortable with you. Dare I say I was even having fun? I did enjoy our time together when we were investigating that silly hoax and we were definitely thinking alike. I also enjoyed our time at that Shilcott guy's place. I felt that connection too even though I tried to tell myself it was just that I was glad to see my good friend again and spend time with her. What an idiot I was. When I saw the ring on your finger though, it was a shock. For years I considered you my pathologist, as it were. I felt like all of a sudden I had missed a big, important part of your life. It hurt, but again I was denying my feelings of jealousy. I repressed those feelings and told you to be happy. Any thoughts I might've had about beginning something with you died that day before they even had a chance to take root. I was a blasted fool. If I hadn't been, I would've begged you to reconsider your engagement and give me a chance. Thank God that part of our lives is over now and you're MY wife, even if it took me another year and a half to realise how I felt about you. I'm so glad you didn't marry Tom, sweetheart. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock set the diary and pencil on his bedside table, along with his reading glasses, then shook his rather aching hand. Too much writing at one time. He was finally feeling very sleepy. As he lay in bed, he thought about what he had just read. That day was still imprinted indelibly in his mind, even more so as it ended in the bonfire in which John had been trapped. He remembered how Magnussen had later said that John was his pressure point. What would've happened if the man had instead recognised Sherlock had feelings for Molly, if Sherlock had actually been aware of them himself at that time? What if Magnussen had decided that Molly was his pressure point instead? With these troubling thoughts in his head, he fell asleep and began to dream.

* * *

(To see what happens in the dream, read _Sherlock's True Pressure Point_ )

* * *

 **Author's note:** So, here we are getting a little more backstory for Tom and Molly. I hope you are enjoying my interpretation of their relationship. I also wanted to make clear that Molly was having doubts even then as her heart warred with her head and loyalty to Tom.

Over the next several chapters you will start seeing the timeline of my "Realizations of Love Dreams" series. If you have not read them, I encourage you to head over to these stories as they occur during the Diary saga and leave your feedback on them as well as on this chapter.

 **Proverbs 3:27 NIV** says " _Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due,_ _when it is in your power to act."_ When you follow/favourite/review, you are doing good to me, lifting my own spirits and helping me continue my work here. As it also says in **Matthew 9:37** NIV- _Then he said to his disciples,_ " _The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few."_


	12. Conflicting Emotions & After Work Play

**Thursday, September 7, 2017**

Sherlock had had quite a restless night. He had awoken temporarily after having a very lucid dream in which Molly had been the one trapped in the bonfire on the day he had discovered she was engaged to Tom. While the dream had had a happy ending, full of promise for a future together for them, it had still left Sherlock unable to sleep for some time because he was missing his wife.

He woke to the smell of bacon frying. Molly was obviously home and preparing breakfast. Despite the fact that it was more like evening for her, because she had been working overnight, she still kept to the same schedule for meals. He dressed and ventured out to the kitchen where Molly was just setting breakfast on the table.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I was just about to get you up for breakfast." She came to him and he kissed her.

"How was work, love?" he asked, sitting himself down at the table.

"Quiet as usual. How did you sleep?"

"After you left I read your diary for a while. I thought that might help me fall asleep. I ended up leaving off at the point where I found that you were engaged." He went on to tell her about his subsequent dream as they ate.

"Being trapped in a bonfire doesn't sound like fun, and I'm sure it wasn't fun for John, but I like the idea of you rescuing me. It's funny how your dream ended up using some of the same circumstances from the phone call at Sherrinford," Molly remarked once he had concluded his tale.

"The mind certainly does work in mysterious ways. I think I'm going to read some more of your diary today though. I'm curious to see what you wrote about during that period when you were engaged to Tom," said Sherlock before taking his last piece of bacon and chewing it.

Molly, who had finished her own plate of food, took a sip of coffee before responding. "I only made a few entries during that time. I don't even remember exactly what I wrote, but I still remember how conflicted I was between my continuing feelings for you and the ones I was supposed to have for the man I had agreed to marry."

Suddenly, she paled. At first Sherlock thought it was as a result of what she had just said about being conflicted between Tom and himself. He was disabused of that notion, however, when she made a dash for the bathroom and a few seconds later he heard her emptying her breakfast into the toilet. He immediately got a glass of water and some Ritz crackers for her.

When she exited the bathroom, having brushed her teeth to rid herself of the bad aftertaste from being sick, he handed the water and crackers to her and she smiled gratefully. "Thank you, sweetheart. I guess the morning sickness is going to be a regular occurrence for a while."

At Molly's insistence, Sherlock brought his Bible from the bedroom and read aloud to her on the sofa, as she leaned her head against his shoulder. He knew Molly enjoyed listening to the sound of his voice as she read, and he was happy to do it, to take her mind off of feeling ill.

"Thank you. I'm feeling a lot better," she told him, after he had read for half an hour.

Sherlock put his arms around her. "Are you ready for bed now?"

Molly gave him a sultry look. "I know exactly what you are asking, and the answer is yes."

He kissed her then, running his hands down her body, then pulling her blouse out of her trousers. His hands felt beneath the fabric, kneading her breasts through her bra, then reaching behind to unhook it. He noted with satisfaction that it was much easier to do now that he had had a month of practice. Undoing the hooks and eyes of her corset had been a little bit of a struggle on their wedding night.

Soon afterwards they were in the bedroom removing their clothes. After they had made love, Sherlock held Molly in his arms until she fell asleep. Then he gently disengaged from her embrace and put on his boxers and dressing gown. He quietly retrieved the diary from his nightstand, putting the extra pair of reading glasses away. He didn't want them to leave the bedroom, in case he misplaced the usual pair. Then he went into the sitting room to read after retrieving the other pair of glasses from where he had left them on the coffee table after reading the Bible. He really needed to find a permanent place for the darn things beneath rather than on top of the table. He was sure Molly would prefer things to be a little tidier and that was definitely one of Sherlock's weak points.

Silently resolving to make a better effort, he sat in his chair, crossed his legs and began to read from where he had left off the night before.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **November**_

 _Well, tonight was awkward, but first, some good news. After several days of estrangement, John has forgiven Sherlock for not confiding in him when he had to fake his death. It probably had to do with the fact that Sherlock pulled John out of a bonfire night before last, after we spent the day together. Why am I not surprised that Sherlock would act like a hero? He would do anything for his friends. I don't really know about that situation too much, except what Mary told me. Mary is John's new fiancée! I met her for the first time tonight when John invited me over to have a celebratory drink after a big case he and Sherlock just solved. It was related to the one Sherlock and I were looking at, the train one. Apparently, Sherlock prevented the Palace of Westminster from being blown up. He really is truly remarkable. Thank God he is back or all those people would've died. Honestly, Sherlock's life is never dull - saving someone from a bonfire one minute and the next, saving a bunch of people from being blown up. I do think Sherlock's time away has changed him, he seems softer somehow. He might put on an arrogant show to outsider, but the man underneath isn't like that at all. I've seen glimpses of it, the real man, but I'm an engaged woman now, so I must stop thinking about him._

 _Anyhow back to the subject at hand, guess I got off on a tangent as usual. John invited me over tonight as well as my fiancé. I guess Sherlock must've mentioned I was engaged. When I asked Tom if he'd like to go to Baker Street to meet my friends, Sherlock and John, he was actually rather excited about it. He was blown away that I knew them personally._

 _When Tom and I arrived at Baker Street, there were a bunch of reporters outside, presumably wanting an interview with Sherlock about the case. When we went upstairs, I introduced Tom to everyone. You should have seen the once-over Sherlock gave him. I felt positively embarrassed. I hope Tom didn't notice the resemblance between Sherlock and himself. The weird part is the look that Sherlock gave him. I think he noticed the resemblance too. I mean really the resemblance is superficial, Tom wears his hair in a similar way and he has a similar coat to Sherlock's as well and knots his scarf in the same way. I'm pretty sure John noticed the similarities as well. Oh well, it can't be helped. John and Sherlock went off then to talk to the reporters._

 _Greg Lestrade was there too. He asked if it was serious between me and Tom, and I told him yeah, that I had moved on. But I could feel the words almost getting stuck in my throat even though I gave a really big, totally fake smile._

 _I talked with Mrs Hudson and Mary. I really like Mary and I'm glad to see that John has found someone like her to spend his life with. He did go from girlfriend to girlfriend when he and Sherlock shared the flat, as Sherlock told me over that time period, so the fact that he is settling down with one woman is a good thing, in my opinion._

 _Tom and I didn't stay too long at the little party though. When Tom was seeing me home, it was rather weird, because he seems to be in awe of Sherlock. He was pretty impressed that I knew him, actually, I guess he's a bit of a fan? He did make that comment about saying he knew Sherlock was innocent when the news came out, so I have to think that's the case. I must admit, I didn't want to ask about that because too much conversation about Sherlock might have brought up other topics. I didn't want Tom to know I had helped Sherlock fake his death. That is between Sherlock and myself, and his brother and the few other people who assisted with it. I broke a lot of hospital regulations and could have lost my job as a result, but weighing that against keeping Sherlock alive made it a rather obvious choice and I will never regret that. No need to dredge up the past anyway. To be honest, there's another reason I never told Tom about Sherlock before because when I think about Sherlock too much, I can't help having these stupid feelings. I'm sure they'll go away soon, at least I hope they will._

 _ **You know, my time away did change me. I don't think anyone could have endured the horrors of what I went through without it causing a change. I became more aware of my own mortality, for certain. I also recognised that I was not invincible and that I needed other people's help at times. When you helped me with the details in faking my death, that was the beginning of the change and I had two years away to really reflect upon things.**_

 _ **Of course I noticed that Tom was a pale imitation of me. I'm sorry, that was really mean. I can't help but still feel a little jealous when I read about him. It does make me feel a little better knowing that you still had your doubts about him though. It's also rather interesting how you say Tom was impressed that you knew me. You never told me about that. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **December**_

 _I know it's been a while since I've written in you. It has been a pretty busy month. December is always busy with the holidays coming up. I just spent Christmas with Tom and his family. It was strange to spend time with any family over Christmas. I look back at my previous entry and I feel guilty for what I said. I know I still feel conflicted about Sherlock, but Tom is a good man. I know he loves me. I must admit though, I still can't get enthusiastic about setting an actual wedding date._

 _During dinner this evening, Tom's parents asked if we had set a date yet and I told them things have been really busy at the hospital because of the Christmas season and people taking time off. They accepted it, but I could tell they were disappointed. I know Tom is disappointed too. He has made a few comments when I have pushed him away because he is trying to get too handsy with me. I still am not comfortable with him putting his hand on my breasts in any way. He has been okay for the most part with my reticence, but when he has had too much to drink, he starts to say things like, "We're engaged, Molly. It's normal for people to progress further than kissing, especially when they are planning to get married."_

 _I understand what he's saying, and I feel really guilty about holding him off like this, but I just can't. It just doesn't feel right. I have showed Tom my purity ring before and explained what it meant. In the beginning he seemed okay with it. When I reminded him about it again though, he didn't seem quite as understanding of my, what he termed "old-fashioned" values. But he did at least drop the subject._

 _Doubts keep creeping into my mind though about my lack of passion for Tom. Maybe once we're married it will be different? Maybe there something wrong with me. Perhaps_ _I'm frigid? But then again, I don't feel frigid in any way when I'm around Sherlock. If anything, he makes me hot all over. But, he's in my past anyway. I've barely even seen him since that evening at Baker Street last month. He has stopped by the hospital a couple times for cases, but we haven't really talked, not the way we used to. I guess now that I'm engaged, he doesn't really want to know me anymore._

 _ **I'm glad you had a Christmas with a family for once. I know my parents will be expecting us to come to Sussex this Christmas, and I hope that will be an even better experience for you, my love. You really did drag your heels on setting a date didn't you? I hadn't really thought about how many months passed from when I discovered you were engaged until the time of John and Mary's wedding. I kind of feel sorry for Tom, but just a tiny bit. I have to say I can't blame him for wanting to touch your breasts because I know how wonderful they feel and I love touching them myself.**_

 _ **Baby, you are definitely not frigid. I have to admit, I did feel a little uncomfortable around you at that time, so yes I didn't seek you out. Remember, I thought of you as my pathologist, and all of a sudden that was no longer the case because you belonged to someone else. I was giving you your space, but I know now that I was doing it for myself too. It was hard for me to be around you when I knew you were with someone else, you had your own life to lead. I also expected that you and he were sleeping together, the way most people seem to do in exclusive relationships. I didn't understand the pain that I felt deep inside about it. Now of course I know and recognise that I was hurting and jealous because I wanted you for myself. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **May**_

 _I'm sorry, Diary. I know it's been ages since I wrote in you. It's funny, at first I had no life so had nothing to write about. Now I kind of have a life. I have a fiancé and we go out on weekends, but it's pretty much the same thing week in, week out. I am ashamed to say I have still not been able to set a wedding date with Tom. We've talked about it a little, but I know he's starting to get annoyed, even suspicious. He even asked me if there was someone else. Of course, I said no. But I'm scared. Even though I barely see Sherlock anymore, when I do see him my heart still pounds and I still feel attracted to him._

 _The only reason I'm writing today is to talk about him. Perhaps that's a sign that things aren't really right with me and Tom, even though I keep trying to tell myself everything's fine. Sherlock came to see me today in the lab. He asked for my help in determining how much alcohol he and John could consume without getting drunk. John asked him to be best man at the wedding, of course. I think that will be very interesting._

 _Sherlock told me for the stag night he is going to take John to a pub on every street where they found a corpse. Why am I not surprised? Only Sherlock would ever think of anything like that. When I asked why he didn't work it out himself, in regard to his alcohol intake, he said he lacked the practical experience. I was a little annoyed because he made it sound like I'm an expert when it comes to drinking. Sure I like an occasional glass of wine or champagne, but I don't drink much at all._

 _When I asked if he thought I was a drunk, Sherlock got all flustered and told me no. Then out of the blue he told me that I looked "well," whatever that means. Of course I told him I was. I was a bit surprised when he asked me about Tom. In fact I was more than a bit surprised, and I told him that Tom was not a sociopath. Sherlock was like "Still? Good." Then I did a bad thing, I lied. I don't know why I did it, maybe I was just trying to see if I could get a reaction out of Sherlock. I said that Tom and I were having quite a lot of sex. I do think Sherlock took a moment to process that, but then he went on as if I hadn't said anything unusual, so I guess he really doesn't care one way or another what I'm doing in my personal life. So yeah, I'm a fool. I mean, after all, why would Sherlock care? Perhaps it's that last tiny shred of hope that I had about him possibly caring on the day we spent together, before he found out I was engaged. I feel like my stomach is all twisted in knots so that I want to be sick. Why can't I just have a normal life? Is that so hard to ask? I feel like if Sherlock hadn't come back, things would've been fine. But I still can't get him out of my mind or my heart, and I know I'm being unfair to Tom._

 _ **Wow, that was quite a time jump since the last entry. I guess you really didn't write a whole lot about Tom and your relationship. That whole conversation, I remember it too well. Funnily enough, I actually felt a little better afterwards and do you know why? We've discussed this of course, how I knew you lied to me. One thing I didn't tell you though before is that before you made that comment I assumed you really were sleeping with him on a regular basis, as consenting adults usually do. After that though I had a tiny inkling that there was trouble in paradise and I felt secretly glad about it. I really hate to read about how conflicted you were, because I don't like thinking of you suffering in any way. The signs were there though, weren't they, my darling? I think you knew the writing was on the wall by this point, didn't you? XOX**_

* * *

 _ **June**_

 _Well, Tom and I have officially been invited to John and Mary's wedding. When we sent back the response, Tom pointed out to me that we became engaged at around the same time as John and Mary, yet we haven't even set a wedding date. The only thing I have even done is inquire about how many people our church reception hall can accommodate. That's the extent of it. I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending things are okay. I've made a decision. When we go to John and Mary's wedding, if I don't feel ready to set a date with Tom for our own wedding, I'm going to break off the engagement. I'm hoping that actually being at a wedding will make me excited about my own. I guess we'll see what happens._

 _ **This diary really was an amazing wedding present. I've learned so much about how you felt by reading it, things you never told me before. You never expressed to me the full extent of the doubts you experienced while you were engaged to Tom. I can't help but feel glad that beneath it all you did still care for me, despite yourself. I love you so much, sweetheart. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock closed the diary hooking the pencil to it, took off his reading glasses and set them both down. Those entries had been truly eye-opening for him. Just knowing that Molly had never really stopped caring for him even when she was engaged was quite enlightening. It was yet another validation that they were meant to be together all along.

His phone pinged with a text alert, and Sherlock, putting his reading glasses on once more, saw it was from Philip Anderson, requesting a consultation about the disappearance of a treasured item. He grinned, he had expected this text. He sent one back, inviting the man to come over for a consultation on Saturday evening.

 _[My new two-shot_ _ **The Case of the Pen Pilferer**_ _reveals Philip's dilemma and spans the timeline of Tuesday of this week through Saturday]_

Setting down the reading glasses once more, Sherlock smiled. He had a plan that would amuse his wife when Anderson arrived on Saturday. The man's pen was tucked away in the miscellaneous drawer in the kitchen and would be returned to him that evening. Sherlock felt a slight twinge of guilt for taking the pen, but really, Anderson had been one of the people responsible four discrediting Sherlock years earlier, so this was a tiny bit of payback. Besides, the way he had been clicking and unclicking the pen at the Yard when Sherlock had been there was beyond annoying.

Even though it was mid afternoon, Sherlock decided he just wanted to be with Molly, even if she was sleeping. He could use a nap anyway after his late night of reading. He went to the bedroom, undressed, then got into bed and curled his body around hers. Deep contentment settled over him as he held her close. He kissed her hair and slept. He dreamed again, this time about confronting Molly about her lie. In this dream, he wasn't trying to repress his emotions, but recognised how much he cared for her and that he wanted to win her. So he set out to do so.

 _[Read about the dream in_ _ **The Overly Long Engagement**_ _]_

* * *

 **Author's note:** So here we get another glimpse into Molly's true feelings about her relationship with Tom, and the doubts she continued to have. Have you ever pondered the thought that she was engaged for so long and yet there was no mention made of a wedding date being set? Do you have a tiny bit of sympathy for Tom in the way Molly was stalling? I must admit that I do. However, sometimes we make the wrong decisions even with the best intentions.

What did you make of Molly's comment to Sherlock in the lab about sex? Do you think she was serious or do you agree with my premise that she was testing Sherlock?


	13. Life-Changing Decisions & John's Apology

**Tuesday, September 12, 2017**

It had been a few days since Sherlock had last looked at Molly's diary. She had spent a little time catching up on his entries though. He still remembered the dream that had occurred after he had last written in the diary. When he had recounted it to Molly, she had been delighted that he had dreamed they had been together as a couple at John's wedding. She was particularly intrigued when he explained how he had proposed, and that the dream included them getting married.

"And in _my_ dream we waited for the wedding night to be intimate too," said Sherlock with a smug smile, "unlike the dream you had before we were married."

Molly blushed and poked him. "You had your own share of erotic dreams, my love, so there's no point in being all holier-than-thou now. Don't forget the one you had the night before your stag night, when you dreamed of an alternate stag night where we both had too much to drink and made love before the wedding."

"Touché, my darling. It seems that reading your diary stirs up my imagination a lot, and it makes me wonder sometimes what would've happened if things had gone in a different way for us."

"That brings to mind a television show from America called _Sliders_. It was all about these people traveling into parallel universes. That's what these dreams are like, sort of parallel universes for us, different versions of ourselves."

Sherlock chuckled. "Alternate versions of me? I would feel sorry for the world. Undoubtedly there would be ones even worse than the real me. I'm sure every Molly would be just as perfect, though."

She giggled, "I don't know about that. That version of me from my uni dream did not behave very well, and I'm not even close to perfect either. But I still wouldn't trade my real life with you for any of those fantasy versions."

Sherlock bent down to place a tender kiss on her lips. "Nor would I. Besides, those dreams don't go far enough into the future. Look at us now, with a baby on the way."

"And the morning sickness that goes along with it," she quipped with a wry smile.

The weekend had gone by quickly. Molly had been working and Sherlock had taken advantage of that fact to find a couple cases he could solve in the London area.

In the evening on Saturday, Philip Anderson had been by, having booked a consultation with Sherlock over a perceived pen thief at the Yard. As it turned out, Sherlock himself had been the culprit, wanting to lure Anderson over so the man could finally tell Molly all about that ridiculous theory he had had about how Sherlock might have survived after he jumped off the roof of St. Bart's. The only noteworthy part of that theory had been the imagined kiss between Sherlock and Molly. Rather than recount the tale himself, Sherlock had decided it would be more fun for Molly to hear it from the horse's mouth.

It had been most amusing to hear Molly laughing at the preposterous nature of the theory. After Philip had left with his pen in triumph, not because he had got his pen back, but because an untimely bout of nausea by Molly had alerted him to draw the correct conclusion that she was pregnant, leading to Philip magnanimously forgiving the detective for the theft, Sherlock and Molly had enjoyed their own little re-creation of that magnificently steamy kiss.

John had come over on Sunday, and it was like old times. After the case was wrapped up, one where they had to solve a cryptic code of dancing men figures, Mrs. Hudson, who had been babysitting, had brought Rosie upstairs.

It was the first time Sherlock had seen Rosie since his wedding, and he took great delight in holding her and showing things to her. The little short overalls outfit she was wearing was, he thought, rather adorable, and he found himself imagining what it would be like to have his own daughter, if he had one, dressed that way. Rosie was fascinated by his wedding ring, so he took it off and handed it to her, and John had been a little cross with him.

"Sherlock! Don't be a moron. She could choke on that!" He took Sherlock's ring from the baby and pocketed it.

Sherlock was distracted then by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Molly was home. He pointed out the door and waved as he held Rosie. "Look, it's Auntie Molly."

The door was already open, and he was overwhelmed with love for her as she walked into the room wearing that cherry cardigan she always looked so lovely in, with a huge smile on her face. Of course, he was a little disappointed when he discovered the big smile was for Rosie and not himself. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her trouser pocket and tossed it on the coffee table nonchalantly.

Fortunately, Molly was soon distracted with holding her goddaughter, and Sherlock hissed to John, "Give me my ring back!" The last thing he wanted to do was make Molly think he planned to go around without it.

"Just don't do something so idiotic again," John said in a low voice, handing him back his wedding ring.

"I won't," Sherlock said, shoving the ring hastily back onto his finger, as Molly continued to coo over Rosie.

"What's on that folded piece of paper you brought home?" Sherlock asked Molly curiously.

She paused in her baby talk to Rosie and looked at him. "Oh, it's just the results of the blood test from a couple weeks ago. I keep forgetting to bring it home." She stopped suddenly and looked guiltily at John.

John, to his credit, came to the correct conclusion. "Oh my God, Molly. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Molly gave Sherlock an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry. I'm sure you wanted to tell him yourself, I just wasn't thinking."

Sherlock went over to her and Rosie and kissed Molly's cheek. "It's fine, sweetheart." He looked at John then and said, "Yes, we're having a baby."

John beamed at them. "That's incredible news. I am so happy for both of you. Wait till I tell Kayla! She will be thrilled for you too." He hesitated. "That is, of course, unless you want to tell her yourself, Molly? I know she's your friend."

Molly grinned. "She's your girlfriend, so if you want to tell her, I'm okay with that."

"Speaking of girlfriend, I suppose it's past time that I do this," commented John, turning suddenly sober.

Sherlock's eyes widened as John pulled off the wedding band he had continued to wear beyond Mary's death and put it into his pocket. Sherlock had noticed it of course still adorning John's finger, but, unlike the old days, had been too tactful to question why John was still wearing a ring that bonded him to another woman when he was now seeing someone else. Sherlock understood that this was a very important moment for John, that he had truly made the decision to move on with his life, and he was glad for his best friend.

Molly handed Rosie to John, then laid a gentle hand on his arm. "I think Mary would be glad you are not going to spend the rest of your life letting her memory prevent you from moving on."

John smiled and there was no doubt clouding his eyes from his action of moments before. "I know she would be. I'll always love her, and Rosie will know about her mother, but Mary and I talked about things once, when we were making our wills. We both agreed that if anything happened to one of us, life is too short to spend it dwelling on the past."

He looked at Sherlock. "You know, I never actually asked for your forgiveness over what I did to you that time at the hospital, when I was blaming you for Mary's death. I beat the crap out of you and you just took it, didn't even defend yourself. I'm so sorry, mate. Can you truly forgive me?"

Sherlock gazed at John in surprise. "Of course I forgive you. I forgave you back then, and becoming a Christian has shown me even more clearly the importance of forgiving without reservation."

John gave a deep sigh and settled Rosie more firmly against his hip. "Thank you, my friend. I feel like a great burden has been lifted from my heart."

Sherlock smiled. "That is how I felt when I truly gave my life over to the Lord and became a Christian."

John smiled wryly. "With talk like that, and Kayla encouraging me to attend church regularly, perhaps there's hope for me yet."

"We're praying for you, John," put in Molly. "We're not going to force you or push you to believe what we believe. If your heart is open to it though, I do believe that God will reveal Himself to you in a very real way."

"Yep, if God could change a sinner like me, there's hope for everyone," quipped Sherlock, and they all laughed.

John hugged both of his friends, then left soon afterwards. Sunday was certainly a good day, and Sherlock felt as if John's heart was softening when it came to spiritual matters which pleased him immensely.

Unfortunately the next day wasn't so good for Molly.

As soon as Molly woke up on Monday morning, she had to run to the bathroom and get sick. Having worked the weekend, she wasn't scheduled to work again until Wednesday which was fortunate. The whole day was spent in taking care of Molly and her needs, as she brought up every bit of liquid and every Ritz cracker she consumed. Sherlock felt he could almost set his watch by her, because every twenty minutes without fail she had to dash to the loo. It was a great worry to him, but finally at around eight in the evening, she stopped getting sick.

Today had been a better day for Molly. She had been sick after breakfast, which seemed to be becoming routine, but was okay for the rest of the day. While she went to take her shower, Sherlock decided to do a bit of reading of the diary, so he found his reading glasses which were for once where they were supposed to be, picked up a pencil and began to read.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

 _ **July**_

 _I am officially single again, and I don't know how I feel about it. I ache for the hurt I caused Tom, yet I feel glad that I had the courage to confront my true feelings, especially when Tom himself pointed them out._

 _Let me start by saying that John and Mary's wedding was absolutely lovely. They seem so happy together. Despite this though, I couldn't help looking at Sherlock and thinking how incredibly handsome he looked. In fact, I don't think he has ever looked more handsome, or, don't tell anyone I said this - sexy._

 _I tried to muster enthusiasm during the day, being with Tom. As the marriage service proceeded, I tried to think about saying those vows to Tom. Unfortunately, his face kept getting replaced by that of Sherlock's. I went off into a daydream about marrying Sherlock instead. How awful is that?_

 _During the reception I tried to play the happy fiancée, but by then I knew my heart was not in it and that Tom and I were not going to make it. I even did a rather bad thing, well three actually. First, I took a picture of Sherlock when he was standing to do his best man speech. I pretended to Tom I was taking a photo of the wedding party. I just wanted to capture one picture of Sherlock for myself. The other bad thing I did was after Tom made some ridiculous comment about a case Sherlock had been working on. I'm not proud of myself, but I hissed at him to sit down. You should've seen the hurt in Tom's eyes when I did that. A bit later, Tom made a comment that Sherlock was pissed. Yes, Sherlock was acting rather erratic, but I'm used to that. So I did something that John would say is a Bit Not Good. I stuck a fork intoTom's hand. I'm not proud of that either. I am not usually prone to violence. I just felt this surge of anger well up in me and protectiveness I felt for Sherlock._

 _Later, everyone was standing around watching John and Mary dance to a beautiful tune Sherlock had composed for them on his violin. Tom and I weren't even standing together at that point. I told him to give me some space. I had a hard time looking at anyone but Sherlock as he played, even though I should have been looking at John and Mary as they danced. At the end of the piece Sherlock played, he threw his boutonnière to the really pretty bridesmaid standing next to me. I felt so jealous, wishing he had thrown it to me. Were they flirting with one another? The idea makes me green with envy even now._

 _After everyone started dancing, Tom came over to me and pulled me onto the dance floor. I danced with him because I didn't want to get into a row with him during the wedding. I did notice that Sherlock left the reception hall and didn't come back._

 _Anyway, Tom had borrowed his mum's car for the wedding and he drove me home afterwards. I invited him in, saying we needed to talk. I didn't even get a chance to explain things, because he had figured it out. I guess he had noticed the way I kept looking at Sherlock. We exchanged a few words and I returned his ring. He also said it will be a cold day in hell before Sherlock notices me, and that hurt, even though it's true. He also made a comment about me denying him sex, and that maybe the next woman in his life won't do that._

 _I feel like the worst sort of person right now, but hopefully I can just pick up the pieces and move on with my life, solitary as it may be from this point on. The only thing I know for sure is that I will never love anyone the way I love Sherlock. There it's out. I love him, with everything that is in me, unrequited though that love may be. As long as he is in this world, I will be his friend and I will be there for him always, in whichever way he needs me. That is my silent vow to him, that he will never know about._

 _ **My sweet angel, what you must've gone through. I never really understood how difficult that day must have been for you, especially if you were thinking about your future and what to do about your situation. I must admit, I kind of liked reading that you daydreamed about marrying me. I hope you thought our real wedding day was even better than your daydream.**_

 _ **You thought I looked sexy? That brings a smile to my face. I wonder if you think I looked better on that day or on our wedding day. I'll have to ask you. OKay, I'm pretty sure of the answer, but I'll admit, it's nice to be reassured.**_

 _ **You really looked so beautiful that day, and I was tempted to throw my rose at you, but that would not have been right under the circumstances. As far as I was concerned, you were still perfectly happy and planning your wedding. I must point out too that on that day Janine did flirt with me, but I did not flirt back. Of course, it was on the basis of her interest that I ended up using her later for my own ends, as you know.**_

 _ **Oh yes, I will never forget the preposterous "meat dagger" theory. Almost as bad as Anderson's theory on me surviving the fall. Actually it was worse, because it had no merit. At least Anderson theorised about a steamy kiss. I very much enjoyed our re-enactment of that fantasy kiss, so much so, I think it may bear repeating at some point in the future.**_

 _ **I didn't know that you realised I had left the reception hall. I stood outside for a little while, feeling a little - alone, I guess. Then I went home, alone. So, this is where you knew you were truly in love with me? Thank God I finally saw the light. You are my sweetheart, my soulmate, the most wonderful wife in the world, and in a few months we will have our own baby to love as well. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock looked up as Molly perched on the chair next to him and put her arm around his shoulders.

"I see you were reading my long essay about the wedding," she commented, taking off his reading glasses and reaching over to set them onto the desk.

"Yes, it was definitely the longest one yet. I didn't have a lot of room to make a response either," he responded. "By the end of it, I was writing in the margin in minuscule writing you probably will need a magnifying glass to read."

She laughed at that, then made a suggestion. "If you ever need more paper, just tear out sheets from the back of the diary. There are still quite a few blank ones."

"Sounds like a good idea." He smiled at her. "Anyway, I didn't even get past the one entry today. Do you want to read what I responded?" Without waiting for an answer, he pulled Molly onto his lap and held the diary in front of her. As she read his comments, he stroked her freshly washed and brushed hair and sniffed her skin appreciatively. Oh, she had chosen the new vanilla and patchouli one today. He swept her hair out of the way and kissed her neck.

Molly squeaked and almost dropped the diary. "Sherlock! I'm trying to read here."

Sherlock pouted. He should've had her read the diary after, rather than before he had his way with her. Obediently though, he sat there patiently and allowed Molly to finish reading.

As soon as Molly closed the diary, she turned her head to look at him and commented, "You know our wedding day was better than any daydream could've been, and of course you looked more handsome on that day than you did on the day of John's wedding, but John's was definitely a close second!" Then she asked, "You really stood outside the reception hall? I wish I'd known it. I should have told Tom it was over between us during the reception instead of afterwards. But he seemed so happy that night after he had had a few glasses of champagne, so I thought it would be best to wait till he had brought me home."

Sherlock looked at her sternly. "You let him drink and drive? He could've killed you."

Molly blushed. "I didn't even think of that. He often drove to the pub and back, and he seemed to hold his liquor well," she defended.

"Nonetheless, that was very foolish," Sherlock chided. "Getting into a car with someone who is under the influence of alcohol can have disastrous consequences. Statistics show that a good portion of car accidents are the result of impaired judgement due to excessive alcohol consumption. Furthermore-''

"You're right," Molly interrupted hastily with an apologetic look at him. "You've made your point, I don't need to know the statistics, honey. I'll admit, I was an idiot." She paused for a moment, then continued. "Speaking of idiot, I do apologise again for making that remark about the blood test in front of John. Actually, I would've expected you to have already told him during your day together."

Sherlock shrugged, and begin to massage Molly's shoulders. 'I was thinking we'd tell him together. Of course, I know how you can make it up to me," he said, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Molly immediately released the belt of her new favourite blue dressing gown which had been his, and she wiggled out of it so that her shoulders were bare as was the rest of her upper torso. Sherlock smiled in satisfaction. He loved the way she was as eager to be with him as he was to be with her.

Sherlock massaged her shoulders for a minute, enjoying her little moans of pleasure. "Molly, why don't you get the matching massage oil for this scent and I'll use it on your shoulders?" he suggested.

"Mmm, okay," said Molly dreamily, standing up and allowing the dressing gown to drop completely from her body to reveal she wore nothing whatsoever underneath, then casually exiting the room. While she was gone, Sherlock hastily removed his own clothes. _If she can parade around nonchalantly, completely naked, so can I,_ he thought to himself. He did so love the way she was comfortable enough with her body to not feel she had to be modest around him when it wasn't dark. It was a bit like they were Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden before they sinned, he thought, unashamed of their nakedness. Of course, being naked all the time could be a little awkward for a man at times if he was feeling an attraction to his beloved.

When Molly returned to the room with the massage oil she gasped and exclaimed, "You're naked!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "So are you," he pointed out. "You had better make sure the front door is locked," he added.

Molly gave him a questioning look. "Are you expecting visitors?"

"Nope," he responded, "but one never knows with Mrs. Hudson."

Molly handed Sherlock the bottle of massage oil then hastily went over to the front door and locked it. Sherlock gazed at the sway of her hips in frank appreciation. _She is such a lovely woman,_ he thought for what was probably the thousandth time. _No, not just lovely - beautiful, inside and out._

"Are we going to the bedroom now so you can massage me properly?" she asked with a flirtatious glance.

He smirked. "Not this time. You're going to sit on my lap, and after I'm done, we are going to break in my chair with a bit of loving."

"Your precious chair?" She had seated herself on his lap by that time and swivelled her head back to look at him.

"Why not? If it's survived an explosion, I think it can survive a little lovemaking, don't you agree?" He squeezed some massage oil onto his palms and began to massage Molly's shoulders. Molly didn't answer his question because she was too busy making those little moans he liked so well.

And a little while later, his own sounds of pleasure joined hers as they proved once and for all that his chair was able to withstand a good deal of energetic lovemaking, not just a little. It was indeed a sturdy chair.

Later that night, as they lay in bed nestled together, they talked again about John's wedding reception and how it had been the catalyst that led to Molly ending her engagement. As a result, both Molly and Sherlock had a dream that began with John's wedding reception.

* * *

 _[Read about Sherlock's dream in_ _ **I Don't Want to be Alone Anymore**_ _, and Molly's dream in_ _ **The Matchmaker**_ _]_

 _[_ _ **The Case of the Pen Pilferer**_ _gives the whole story of the Philip Anderson case and Sherlolly Kiss. Don't forget to read it and leave your feedback on it!]_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** You may have correctly deduced that I have incorporated some canon from the final Sherlock montage into this. What do you think? Does it seem plausible? (I did explain why Sherlock was not wearing a ring when he pointed at the door while holding Rosie LOL).

Yes, I'm afraid this chapter had more "real" storyline than diary content. Hope that isn't too annoying, I try as much as possible to balance both. In this instance, I think events in the "real" world actually take dominance as far as plot progression for my characters.

So, this chapter contains the diary entry surrounding Molly breaking off her engagement. What's your opinion on how and when that happened? Do you agree with my idea that it happened immediately after the wedding? I just feel it would have really been the catalyst for Molly - seeing John and Mary so happy, feeling renewed longing for Sherlock and making comparisons between him and Tom.

It's really strange, I have been thinking for quite a while about the fact that John never apologized or asked for Sherlock's forgiveness for what he did to him. I was thinking at some point about writing a one shot, but when I was doing a last proofread of this, this morning, suddenly it just felt this was the right time to put it in, and also to have John remove his wedding band which I noticed he was still wearing in the final montage. Your thoughts on this last-minute addition?

One last thing - anyone else out there a _Sliders_ fan? I used to love that show!


	14. Shooting (Up) Aftermath & Pregnancy Talk

**Thursday, September 14, 2017**

Sherlock opened the door to the flat and waited for Molly to precede him in.

"That was such a lovely dinner with John, Kayla and Rosie," enthused Molly. "I like the idea Kayla had of putting me on the prayer list for safe pregnancy for Sunday and seeing how many people notice."

"She was so happy for us. I have to say, I'm rather amazed that John didn't let the cat out of the bag before we decided to share the news with Kayla as well. Her idea is truly inspired too," agreed Sherlock. "Perhaps you should send an email to Nancy before it's too late to have your name put on the prayer list for this week?"

Molly nodded. "Good idea. I'll do that and then take my shower."

"There's just one thing you need to do first," he told her.

She looked at him questioningly. "What?"

He smirked. "Kiss me. It has been several hours, after all."

Molly laughed and wrapped her arms around him. They had only been kissing for a minute before Sherlock realised he really wanted more than just kisses. His hands traced a delicate path down Molly's body as he pulled her into him more closely, even as he continued to kiss her. "Shall we take this to the bedroom?" he murmured against her lips, even as Molly responded by reaching for the button on his jacket.

For a time they lost themselves in one another and their love. Despite the usual rush of fatigue that followed their lovemaking, Sherlock realised it was too early to actually go to bed, so he reminded Molly to send off the email to church.

"I think I might read some more of your diary while you are doing that and taking your shower," he said, slipping on his dressing gown before heading into the sitting room.

Molly followed him out a minute later, also clad in a dressing gown, his blue one, and grabbed her phone to send an email, while Sherlock found her diary under the coffee table. _Where in the heck are my reading glasses this time?_

"Molly, do you-?"

"I put them on the desk a couple nights ago, remember?" she interrupted the question, not looking up from her phone. _Utterly amazing woman,_ he thought. She knew what he'd been about to say without even looking at him.

"Thanks, love." He found the glasses and settled them on his nose. Before opening the diary, he said, "I still can't believe we both had dreams the other night that started with John and Mary's wedding reception, and that they both ended up in us getting together by the end."

Molly looked up then and laughed. "Yours was definitely more fun, with me pushing you into the fountain. Plus you had the bonus of having interaction with John and Mary. Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad John and Kayla have each other now, and I do believe God brought them together, but I still miss Mary too. We never really got the chance to be good friends, the way I feel we could have been."

Sherlock sighed. "I know. At least we know she saw something between us when I was still trying to deny my feelings. But your dream sounded rather interesting, the way Mrs. Hudson played matchmaker. We must tell her about that."

"Oh, yes, she will definitely get a kick out of that. Remember, she already thinks she deserves some credit for us being together because of her suggestion that you invite me to the Christmas party a few years ago." Molly chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if she somehow found a way to take credit for me getting pregnant so fast."

"Quite possibly." He rolled his eyes "She will probably say she created the warm summer breeze that enabled us to make love outside on our honeymoon."

"You really think that was the day I got pregnant?" Molly asked him, twirling a piece of hair around her finger thoughtfully.

Sherlock shrugged. "We can't be sure of course, but we did make love twice in that little wooded area, and the timing was right." He recalled with great fondness that lovely day when they had had a picnic then played a little game together that entailed removing a piece of clothing each time they were unable to guess the solution to a lateral thinking puzzle successfully.

"Conceived in the outdoors, quite a story to tell," Molly said with a smile at him.

They lapsed into silence then, each occupied with their own activity.

Sherlock was soon engrossed in the diary.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

 _ **September**_

 _I just had the worst day! For the past few weeks I've been getting used to being on my own again, having weekends to myself. I kind of expected to see Sherlock once in a while, but he has been curiously absent, and now I know why._

 _John and Mary just got back from their honeymoon recently and today was the first time I had seen them or Sherlock since the wedding. Unfortunately, it wasn't a social occasion. John came into work and asked me to administer a urinalysis drug test on Sherlock. I couldn't believe my ears, I thought it was some kind of joke at first. Unfortunately, the drug test was positive. I have to admit, I lost control. Sherlock mentioned to me once during a case that involved a murder victim who had been a drug addict, that he could understand the signs of frequent intravenous drug use because he too had used drugs himself in the past (which was somewhat of a shock to me, I confess, although I appreciated that he felt comfortable enough with me to even tell me about it, it does seem to indicate he thinks of me as a good, trusted friend). Interestingly, Sherlock referred to himself at the time as a former user, not an addict. Personally, I don't think you can really separate the two, but that's beside the point right now. Up until today I had never seen him high and it was really upsetting. The thought of him doing anything that could mess with his brilliant mind just made me see red._

 _I flew into a rage, told him off for betraying his friends and throwing away his beautiful, God-given gifts. And I did something else bad, honestly, I am getting so violent lately. I slapped him, Diary, three times. They weren't little slaps either, they were meant to sting. I told him to say sorry, as if I was his mother or something._

 _It's strange, but I remember his words perfectly. He said, "Sorry your engagement's over, although I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring."_

 _For a heart-stopping moment, I thought he meant he was glad because he cared for me. Of course that was silly, though. He just meant the slaps would've probably hurt more if I had still been wearing my ring. But, oh, he didn't retaliate in any other way. He also didn't seem particularly high. By the way he was talking, it seems like he is trying to get the attention of somebody, to manufacture a drug habit. He's treading on thin ice though. Addiction is a cruel monster. I've seen too many people die of overdoses to not realise what a dangerous game he is playing and it hurts like hell to not be able to beg him to keep away from any kind of drugs. I have no claim on him, so I don't have the right to do that, except to make general comments as I did._

 _And now I've had to make this page blotchy with my tears. Oh, please Lord, be with him, keep him safe and watch over him._

 _I_ _**know this was an upsetting time for you, and I fully deserved those slaps. As you know now, I was determined to get to Magnussen, and at that time it was because Lady Smallwood had asked it of me.**_

 _ **If I am being truthful, that comment I made was also because I was glad you were no longer with Tom. In a way, I felt like we could become closer again and I hoped it would be so. I missed you, Molly. I did resent the fact that Tom had taken you from me, even though I just felt he had taken my best friend away, not realising how truly jealous I was.**_

 _ **I'm so sorry I hurt you, my darling. Yet you prayed for me despite everything. That really blows me away. It is yet more evidence of how unselfish a woman you are and how truly blessed I am to have been the one to win your heart. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **September**_

 _Oh, dear God. If I thought yesterday was bad, today was ten times worse. I came into work and Mike took me into his office. I was a bit surprised. I had no idea what was going on. I thought perhaps I'd made some grave error with a post-mortem. But it was infinitely worse than that. I stood in Mike's office and he told me Sherlock was admitted to the hospital last night. At first, I thought it was because he'd overdosed, after the incident yesterday, but then, Mike said it was a gunshot wound._

 _When he said those words, for a moment I was numb, then I felt dizzy all of a sudden, and Mike made me sit down. He told me Sherlock was in severe but stable condition. I asked Mike if I could go down and see him. Mike has always known how much Sherlock means to me as a friend. When he saw how distressed I was, he told me to go and see Sherlock and just take the rest of the day off, which I appreciated._

 _I went downstairs to Sherlock's hospital room. There was a man coming out of the room and I recognised him as one of the surgeons here, Chris. He recognised me as well, and he volunteered some very interesting information. He was the one who had operated on Sherlock. He told me Sherlock's heart stopped on the operating table. They used paddles on Sherlock with no success, and just when Chris was going to call the time of death, Sherlock's heart started beating again. Chris told me he'd never seen anything like that happen before. Hearts don't usually just start beating again without any kind of external stimulation. I said it was a miracle, and I know that to be the truth. I know God saved him._

 _When I went into the room properly and saw Sherlock, just seeing him hooked up to all those monitors, and the nasal cannula - it broke my heart. Sherlock is such a vibrant personality, and to see him so pale and unconscious that way, oh, it just made me realise even more how much I love him. I would do anything for him. I don't care what anyone says, God has saved him for a reason, and I pray that one day Sherlock will realise that for himself._

 _And Diary, I have a little confession to make. Sherlock was unconscious, but I had an impulse to just press my lips against his. He has such beautiful lips, and even though it was one-sided, I have to admit, it felt wonderful. What would it be like to feel him kiss me properly? I wonder. If I feel this fluttering in my stomach when he's unconscious, I can't imagine what it would be like if he was kissing me back. My heart would probably want to burst out of my chest. But I know it will never happen. It's okay though, I'll just try to be his guardian angel, and I'll be there for him whenever he needs me. That will have to be enough._

 _ **Oh, now I see the words for myself about the way you kissed me when I was unconscious. Perhaps we need to do that experiment again. Reading your thoughts though, really brings it back to me, and how I am only alive now by the grace of God. You have covered me with prayer for so long, my darling. I am so blessed to know now why I was saved, and that we are together. You were so unselfish even then, not that that surprises me. You were wondering if your heart would want to burst out of your chest if we kissed properly. I know that mine swells with love for you each and every time. You are so precious to me, and I can't wait for you to get out of the shower so I can show you, my sweet guardian angel. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **September**_

 _My goodness, this is the third day in a row I am writing in you. Well, I went to see Sherlock today during my lunch hour, and this time he was awake, thank God. He had been transferred to a regular hospital room and no longer needed the nose cannula and almost seemed himself. As I was walking along the corridor towards his room though, before I saw him, I noticed someone coming out and we passed one another. She didn't even look at me, so I doubt she was paying attention, and besides, with my hair in a ponytail I don't think I look anything like I did the day of the wedding, but I recognised her immediately. It was that woman from the wedding, the pretty one who I think was flirting with Sherlock, the bridesmaid. I can't tell you how jealous I felt. I wondered why she was there. As soon as I got in the room though, I found out. There were three tabloid newspapers on top of Sherlock's bed. Oh, the horrible, disgusting things they said that implied he had been sleeping with her. I was devastated._

 _I think Sherlock must've known I was hurting, though. The first thing he said to me was that they weren't true. He told me that he had been seeing that bridesmaid, Janine, to try and get to her boss, Magnussen. Charles Magnussen is a huge newspaper magnate, but he doesn't publish the kind of stories one wants to read, well, at least not the kind that I would be interested in. Apparently, Sherlock's little dabble into drugs was part of his ploy to get to that man. Sherlock told me he got into Magnussen's inner offices, thanks to Janine, who is his personal assistant, and that's where he got shot by some burglar. Talk about bad timing. Thank God the bullet didn't hit any major arteries, I guess he wasn't the greatest shot. It still makes me shudder to think about it._

 _So yeah, ruse or not, Sherlock has had a girlfriend, and he presumably kissed her, which makes me so jealous even though I have no right to be. Even though Sherlock said the tabloids weren't true, I have to wonder. Janine really is a very attractive woman, unlike ordinary me, and maybe he did actually sleep with her. It isn't any of my business anyway. Well, at least Sherlock seemed happy to see me, and he asked if I'd come visit every day. Of course I said I would. And I will continue to pray for him as well, and his speedy recovery._

 _ **It was truly embarrassing for me that you saw those tabloids. I did see the hurt in your eyes. It was so strange having one visitor who was a little belligerent and angry with me, understandably so under the circumstances. But to have my best friend be upset hurt me as well. I thought I made it clear that I didn't sleep with her, but apparently you had your doubts. At least you know now that we were never together that way, and that I never kissed her in the way I kiss you. Kissing her didn't evoke in me the emotions you do. I felt a bit like an actor playing a role. It was just for show. And sweetheart, there's nothing ordinary about you. You are extraordinarily beautiful in more ways than I can count. I think I had better stop reading for now. Thank God you are here with me because I need you, my love. XOX**_

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Sherlock had just finished writing his comments, when he heard Molly rising in a hurry from the sofa on which she had seated herself with her devotional after taking her shower. A few moments later he heard her bringing up the entire contents of her dinner into the toilet.

He dropped the diary hastily on the coffee table, setting the reading glasses haphazardly down beside it, and immediately hurried into the bathroom, where she was flushing the toilet. Her face was pale when she looked at him.

"That wasn't food poisoning, was it?" he asked, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She looked at him wanly. "If it was, you would be getting sick too, because we shared our Chinese dishes with John and Kayla. That would mean they too would be sick. Are you feeling queasy at all?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not at all," he answered, grabbing a flannel and wetting it before tenderly wiping off Molly's face. "I guess your morning sickness is coming at night now."

"I have a bad feeling that I'm going to have another one of those times where I can't keep anything down. I only just barely made it to the toilet." Sherlock helped her stand.

"In that case, I'm going to find you a plastic container to use so that you don't need to rush to the loo every time. I'll get those Ritz and open up a bottle of lemonade as well right now." He rubbed her back soothingly.

She looked at him gratefully. "Thanks, sweetheart. I'm glad I didn't start feeling sick until after we made love."

Sherlock chuckled and put his arm around her waist, leading her back to the sitting room. "I would certainly hate to think that my skills were lacking in that department to the extent that you would be sick afterwards."

She looked at him. "I couldn't ask for a more wonderful husband or lover for that matter," she said earnestly. "I cherish every moment with you. And this baby," she added, putting her hand on her still flat stomach, "is going to make things even more wonderful for us, even if he or she continues to make their presence felt constantly."

Sherlock got her settled on the sofa then went to find a plastic container, open a lemonade, of which there were several bottles stored already in the fridge for just this purpose, leaving it open to lose some of the carbonation, and bring some Ritz crackers over to her. There was already an open bottle of lemonade which he also then carried to Molly.

Unfortunately, Molly was right about the way she was feeling. For the next two hours, Sherlock hovered around her as she, almost on a twenty minute schedule as had happened before, was sick into the container, whereupon he would dump the contents into the toilet rinse out the container and bring it back to her.

Finally, Molly said, "You should just go to bed, Sherlock. I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight."

"I don't want to leave you by yourself," he protested. He was quite prepared to stay up all night if he had to, in order to take care of her.

"Sweetheart, I'll be fine. I'll come to bed when I'm not feeling sick anymore."

Sherlock hesitated, then looking at Molly's determined expression, capitulated. "All right then, but I am going to text Mike from your phone and tell him you are not going to be in tomorrow. I remember how sick you were last time and how long it lasted. You are definitely not going to be up to cutting up corpses and the like, when you are this ill."

Molly gave him a weary smile. "I guess you're right. I haven't had a sick day in goodness knows how long anyway." She indicated her phone and Sherlock picked it up. She had never changed her passcode which was his birthday, since he had used it months earlier, so he unlocked it easily and found Mike's number. He sent of the text, emptied out another round of his poor wife's meager stomach contents, returning it to her clean again, and finally headed for the bedroom.

His mind drifted back to the diary entries on which she had commented earlier. He couldn't help wondering what might have happened if he had returned to consciousness when Molly had kissed him the day after he was shot. He knew how her kisses affected him now, and he had a feeling it would've been quite interesting. In fact, their very first kiss in the lab at St. Bart's, when he came to her for help in faking his death, which had been a mere brush of the lips, had given him a queer sensation in the pit of his stomach that he had pushed aside. He had been too busy at that time to think about what it might mean anyway - after all, he was trying to figure out a way to actually survive.

In time he fell asleep and began to dream an alternate version of events after their very first kiss in the lab, rather than the one Molly had told him about which took place later.

* * *

 _[You can read about the dream in_ _ **Falling for the One Who Always Counted**_ _.]_

* * *

He awakened in the darkness and turned his head to see it was five in the morning according to the digital display of his alarm clock. Well, he thought, that had been a very interesting dream. He realised what had woken him too. Molly had just settled herself into bed beside him.

"Feeling better?" he asked her, reaching to pull her close.

"I think so. I haven't been sick for the past hour, so I think the worst has passed for now. I did amuse myself by reading your latest comments in my diary though, while I waited to see if my stomach had settled properly. I must say, I can't help wondering what would have happened if you had actually woken up when I kissed you after you were shot."

Sherlock chuckled. "That's funny, because I was wondering the same thing before I fell asleep. At the same time, though, I was remembering our first kiss in the lab and the way it made me feel. I just dreamed about that, and a very different outcome from it as well. I'll have to tell you about it in the morning."

Molly snuggled into him, and said sleepily, "I can't wait to hear about it, but I still kind of wonder if you would've felt differently about me if you had known I kissed you back then, when you were in the hospital."

"Well, we both seem to have a predisposition towards dreaming, so perhaps we will dream about this as well," he mused.

And indeed, for the second time that night, Sherlock had another dream of alternate events following a time of crisis, even as Molly experienced her own dream.

* * *

 _[Read about Sherlock's dream in_ _ **A Time to Live**_ _,_ _and Molly's dream in_ _ **The Healing of Physical and Emotional Wounds**_ _.]_

* * *

 **Author's note:** Stand by for a short hiatus of the publishing of this diary as I publish these two dreams which I wrote already at the end of last July/early August. I do hope you will take the time to read those also as I publish them. Neither is an overly long story, Sherlock's dream is only three chapters and Molly's is four chapters long.

So, this chapter deals with Molly's discovery of Sherlock being on drugs, and then of him being shot. This is my head canon of events. What's yours? I am certain Molly had no clue Mary shot Sherlock (in fact, she only discovers that in my original post TFP Journey story.) I don't think Sherlock would have betrayed Mary's confidence that way. Go on, be brave - share your thoughts. Your opinion is just as valid as mine.


	15. Post Shooting & a Prayer List

**Sunday, September 17, 2017**

Molly was bubbling with excitement as she and Sherlock came into the flat after their lunch at Angelo's following church that morning. "I can't believe how many people saw I have been added to the prayer list for safe pregnancy."

Sherlock smiled and took her hand, leading her towards his chair where he sat and then pulled her onto his lap sideways. He cradled her against him, stroking her hair and breathing in her scent. "It was a rather clever way to announce that we are expecting a baby. I must confess, I too felt quite pleased to receive congratulations as well."

"Just think, Sherlock," Molly said, putting her hand on her abdomen, "On Tuesday we go to the hospital for our first appointment. It is going to make everything more real." She looked at him as he continued to run his fingers down the length of her hair.

"I am looking forward to it as well because Mummy has already been asking when we are going to have a baby, and I've been anxious to inform her that you are already pregnant, so don't forget your promise that we can let our parents know after our appointment." He gave her a stern look.

Molly gave him an embarrassed smile then leaned against his chest, sliding her arms around his waist. "I know it's a bit silly, but I just felt like I wanted to wait until we have officially had my pregnancy confirmed."

"And yet you felt we could already make an announcement about your pregnancy at church?" he queried with a raised brow.

She blushed. "Well, not everyone reads the prayer list, and I figured a few extra prayers for the health of our baby wouldn't go astray. Anyway, I want us to be able to tell your parents and my mother that we are officially expecting."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He adored his wife but he felt her caution was unnecessary. "You don't think your constant morning sickness is sign enough to be able to assure them that our baby is healthy without an appointment to confirm it; not to mention the positive pregnancy test and bloodwork that confirm it as well?"

Molly turned her head back towards him. "Well yes, but you know how often miscarriages can happen in early pregnancy. I just wanted to wait that teeny bit longer till I felt more secure about it."

He kissed her forehead. "I understand, sweetheart. I have a peace about this though. I believe this child is meant to be for us, that you will carry our baby successfully and we will have him or her in May. I was more concerned as to whether I would be able to get you pregnant in the first place."

This time it was her turn to reassure him with a kiss on the cheek. "It's funny, I was never worried about that. I guess we are just showing our humanness in fearing the worst, instead of trusting in the Lord."

"Does this mean we can call my parents now instead?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

Molly grinned at him. "Nope. Tuesday is early enough." She rested her head once more against his chest and they sat that way for some time, just content in one another's company.

Eventually though, Molly yawned and pulled away from Sherlock to say, "I think I might have a little nap. I think this baby is sapping my energy."

"Would you like me to take one with you?" asked Sherlock with a sly smile.

Molly stood up hastily. "No, that's quite all right, honey. If you come to take a nap with me, we will not be napping and I will end up even more sleepy afterwards."

Sherlock pouted. "Isn't that rather the point, for you to be sleepy? Very well then, I guess I will take the opportunity to read some more of your diary."

Molly nodded vigorously, obviously pleased that he would have a distraction. "That sounds like a good idea," she proclaimed. She bent towards him and gave him a brief kiss, before heading to the bedroom.

Sherlock retrieved his reading glasses from the coffee table and put them on, then took the diary and began to read.

.../.../.../.../.../…/…/…/…/

 _ **November**_

 _Hi, Diary. After writing in you three days in a row, now it's been weeks since I've bothered. I have had an excuse though, at least, kind of._

 _In my last entry I talked about how Sherlock asked me to visit him every day in the hospital. Well, I did that. I went to see him, except for the day where I found him missing and his brother Mycroft was on the warpath. For some reason he seemed to think Sherlock might be using my place as a bolt-hole, but I informed him otherwise. I mean, I admitted that Sherlock had used my bedroom, but that was way back in those days after he faked his death._

 _Of course, there have been times when Sherlock has visited, usually to discuss a case he's been working on where I've done the post-mortem on a victim, and I've been tempted to ask if he wanted to stay over, when it has gotten late, but to be honest, I'm not sure how well I would do, having him so close to me. I might have been tempted to crawl into bed with him again the way I did after his nightmare that time. Now wouldn't that be dangerous?_

 _I really would've hated to put the lie to the purity ring I used to wear. If I had been still wearing it when I met Tom, I wonder if he would have wanted to go out with me if he knew from the start that I wanted to wait for my wedding night to make love? I did wear the ring for a while, but people can be really mean. I was still in university when I stopped wearing it, not because I was embarrassed about my faith, but because I was tired of everybody making fun of the fact that I was still a virgin (I think I might have talked about this before here, so I'm probably repeating myself). Even Meena poked fun at me sometimes which was a bit hurtful, considering she was my roommate. I do so wish I had a real gold wedding band, but I guess that's never going to happen now. I really need to seriously consider getting another cat, because sometimes I feel so lonely._

 _Anyway, I digress. But what I wanted to talk about was how after Sherlock was released from the hospital, I took it upon myself to invite him over for meals a couple times a week, or to go over to his flat with food. He seems to have healed quite well, which is a blessing, but he seems to be getting thinner. I suspect he doesn't eat unless I or Mrs. Hudson is feeding him. I have a feeling something is weighing upon his mind. I tried getting him to open up about it, but he remains tight lipped. He is a very private person at times._

 _I have to wonder if maybe it is something to do with that Magnussen case, seeing as it was not resolved. Perhaps he is planning something to do with that. Oh well, at least I feel that Sherlock and I have become closer again somewhat, now that I'm not engaged anymore. At least we are seeing each other on a regular basis, and that's enough for me. I'll take what I can get. The only thing I know for sure is that I can't ever let him know that I'm in love with him, it would spoil things between us for sure._

 _I have to tell you a sad little secret, Diary. I have a playlist on my phone called "Unrequited". It has all these songs about unrequited love, and when I'm feeling particularly self-pitying, I play it and make myself feel worse. It's ridiculous, I know. Sometimes I even cry while I'm listening. I know, so stupid. The song I listen to most is called "Say Something." And the first line is "Say Something, I'm giving up on you." I've prayed for so long for Sherlock and yearned for him. I've prayed for God to take these feelings away from me, but perhaps God has other plans for me. I suppose one day I will know the fullness of God's plan for me. In the meantime, all I can do is show the love of Jesus through my actions. Perhaps one day I'll actually get to share my faith with Sherlock. It breaks my heart that he is an atheist and lost. I pray that one day he will know the Lord as I do. Surely he has escaped death for a reason? - first, outwitting Moriarty and surviving a jump off the roof of St. Bart's, now surviving being shot. There just HAS to be a reason for it._

 _Well, gotta stop for now, I need to put something together to take over to Baker Street for Sherlock._

 _ **My dearest, darling wife, there is so much in this entry for me to talk about. First of all, I must thank you for taking care of me at that time. I am not surprised that with your intelligence, you guessed that I might be thinking about the Magnussen case. Indeed, you are quite correct. I was thinking about it, and I was contemplating my plans to trap him on Christmas Day.**_

 _ **You thought about asking me to stay overnight? I must admit, there were times when I was with you and it was quite late, that I would probably have accepted such an offer. I'm pretty sure I would not have wanted to turn you out of your bed. I probably would have even suggested we share it, having done so on the odd occasion with Janine, keeping to my side of the bed, of course.**_

 _ **I see you have written about your purity ring again here. I understand why you stopped wearing it. It is not easy to stand apart from others. I am so glad to have been the one to place the gold band on your finger, my darling. How ironic that the dream I had two nights ago had you showing me that ring, not to mention the dream of a couple weeks ago where it appeared as well. Isn't it funny how we take things from our real life and insert them into our dreams?**_

 _ **Finally, I must address what you wrote about your "unrequited" song list. Of course, you know I found out about this on the day I was working in 221C, getting ready to turn it into my own laboratory. I should really have you delete that playlist, because it no longer applies to you. You don't need to give up on me, you have me already. I am hopelessly devoted to you as well, my sweet little pathologist.**_

 _ **And now, you can see that your prayers were answered. You did get that chance to share your faith with me and it is your witness that helped to bring me towards faith in Jesus, our Saviour. And we are going to share that faith with our own children, my love. Those seeds you planted have borne fruit and will continue to bear fruit in the generations to come. XOX**_

* * *

 _December_

 _Well, it has been weeks again since I've written in you. Nothing has changed in my life. No big events to speak of. I have been getting to know Mary better though. We have been becoming friends. I've been over to see her and John several times. It's rather odd, for newlyweds they have been acting a little strange, keeping their distance with one another which I find rather disconcerting. I've heard though that hormones during pregnancy can make a woman rather moody, so perhaps Mary is having those kind of issues. Anyway, I've been watching her pregnancy progress. I've asked her lots of questions about it, and she even let me feel her baby kicking. It was amazing. It's a kind of torture though. Her pregnancy just makes me long for my own baby. In a way, I'm living vicariously through her, because I'm pretty sure I'll never be blessed with my own children. I have to admit, I've daydreamed about what it would be like to be pregnant with Sherlock's baby, imagining a child that has his curly hair and blue eyes. Any child of his would undoubtedly be highly intelligent and good-looking as well. Oh, how I yearn to touch Sherlock's curls right now._

 _Here I am, drifting off into fantasy land again. Perhaps I need to change my title from "incurably romantic pathologist" to "hopelessly devoted pathologist."_

 _As far as Sherlock goes, nothing has changed. He still remains cagey about the things he is thinking about. He did mention that he is going home for Christmas to Sussex. John and Mary have also been invited, and of course his brother Mycroft will be there. I must confess to feeling a little jealous. I would love to see Sherlock's home where he spent his youth. I wonder what his parents would be like? Knowing Sherlock's and Mycroft's intelligence, I suppose they would be very superior. I imagine his mother to be tall, statuesque and rather aloof. Did Sherlock get his eyes from his mother or father? These are questions to which I may never find the answers, but I can't help wondering._

 _Must close for now. Oh, I'll be working on Christmas as usual. It's not like I have anything better to do._

 _ **My poor darling. I ache to think what you must've gone through with Mary, and your own longing for a baby. I am so glad that I have been able to fulfill one of your wishes on that front. Just think, Molly, soon you will be able to feel our own baby kicking in your abdomen. I look forward to feeling our child moving as well. I am actually quite excited at the prospect of hearing our baby's heartbeat for the first time in a few weeks. And then of course it will be exciting when we are able to view the life we created together when you have your first scan. So many exciting milestones to come for us, my love.**_

 _ **It is interesting to read what you thought about my parents. I can understand why you may have thought what you did, but I hope you are glad with the way they truly are. One thing about them that I think has given me a good foundation, despite the years of difficulties I have experienced due to my childhood trauma, my parents truly love each other. When you see a couple who is still in love after fifty years, It is a great testament to the fact that soulmates exist, as indeed I know, seeing as we are soulmates. Du bist mein Seelenverwandter. XOX**_

.../.../.../../…/…/…/…/

Sherlock looked up and saw Molly was standing next to his chair. He took off the reading glasses and looked at her. He hadn't even noticed that she had returned to him, he had been so absorbed in what he was reading and writing. "I thought you were going to take a nap?" he asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

Molly folded her arms in front of her and gave him a rather accusing look. "I _was_ planning to, but then that comment you made about joining me got me all distracted. I've been lying in bed, unable to sleep and wishing you were with me."

She was wearing his red dressing gown this time. Apparently it was time for a dressing gown swap again. She liked the blue dressing gown she had purloined from him to smell like his scent and it probably smelled like hers by this time. He leaned forward slightly and the reading glasses dropped from his hand to the side of his chair unnoticed, as she opened the dressing gown to reveal just a bra and knickers underneath. He realised of course, that it would not have made sense for her to take a nap fully clothed. Nevertheless, it was the way she opened the dressing gown and slid it seductively off of her shoulders, that made him realise she had given up the idea of taking a nap in favour of other more delightful pursuits.

"Are you sure you don't want to have some lunch?" he teased.

"I am not hungry for lunch right now, Sherlock," she informed him.

He swallowed and looked at his wife, who was giving him a disconcertingly seductive look. Before he had a chance to ask if she was planning to seduce him, she bent towards him and put her arms around his neck, then whispered in his ear. "How would you like to join me for a little _nap_ , Sherlock?" She didn't wait for an answer but settled herself on his lap as she had been earlier, and unfastened the button of his jacket, sliding the garment from his shoulders. By the time she had unfastened the buttons of his shirt, Sherlock had decided it would be better to finish things in the bedroom.

"I thought you wanted a nap, my love," he said as he stood, taking Molly with him. She gave a little squeak and clung to him, even as he stepped over the discarded dressing gown and strode with her towards the bedroom in order to finish what she had started.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I hope you enjoyed my little bit of backstory on things that happened after Sherlock was shot. I do think Molly would have quite possibly wanted to take care of him and feed him so I decided to make it part of my personal universe for their history. I also think it realistic she got to spend some time with Mary. Otherwise why would she have been asked to be godmother to Rosie? I can just see Molly talking about Sherlock enthusiastically and Mary realizing Molly has feelings for him.

In addition, I think Molly is perceptive enough to have suspected something was going on with Sherlock too.

How about you? How would you "fill in the blanks" of this time period?

Are you guilty of making sad song playlists? I remember many years ago making cassette recordings that contained my favourite songs from all my favourite bands - and that was when they had vinyl records (showing my age here!).

Remember that your favourites, follows and reviews are a blessing to me. I respond to every person who presses those buttons. If you have not seen a pm from me in response, it is probably because you are using the app and pm's do not show up in the app when they are written via the website.


	16. One-Way Mission & Serious Discussion

**Tuesday, September 19, 2017**

Sherlock gently released his hold on Molly, allowing her to sleep. It had been a good day. Today they had had their first appointment in regard to Molly's pregnancy.

Mycroft had stopped by the flat with a gift for Molly and himself, a baby Doppler monitor, which Sherlock found unexpectedly thoughtful of his brother. After that, they had called their parents to share the news as well. The three future grandparents had been delighted, of course.

Afterwards, the couple had retired to the bedroom for some pre-dinner lovemaking. For once it was Molly who had fallen asleep afterwards, while Sherlock remained awake, still thinking about their baby.

Rather than wake her, he decided to let her sleep for awhile while he read another few entries in her diary.

After Sherlock re-dressed, he hunted for his reading glasses for a couple minutes. They weren't on the coffee table. He tried to recall the last time he had used them. _Oh yes, it was Sunday. I was reading Molly's diary and she came up to me in my dressing gown and distracted me with her sexiness, and I dropped the reading glasses._ He felt down the side of his chair and extracted the glasses with a triumphant, "Aha!"

Before beginning to read though, Sherlock took his laptop, slid the glasses onto his face and searched Amazon. He and Mycroft had discussed earlier the idea that he visit Eurus on Saturday and Molly would be coming along for the first time. He recalled on his last visit, before the wedding, telling his sister he would bring her a Bible, so he searched Amazon and found one that would be appropriate for someone who was not familiar with the Bible at all. He selected one with a green cover called " _Seek Find-CEV: The Bible for All People"_ and paid the extra shipping in order to have it delivered before Saturday.

Once that was done, Sherlock decided to quickly take some sausage rolls from the freezer and put them in the oven for dinner. After setting the oven timer, he picked up the diary and sat in his chair as usual. He then began to read the next installment of revelations from his beautiful wife's heart.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

 _ **December**_

 _Here it is, Christmas again and I'm alone as usual. At least I got to spend time being distracted at work today. Death and post-mortems don't take a holiday for Christmas and I had two to do. It made me feel sorry for the people who had lost loved ones so close to Christmas. I must admit, I actually preferred the quietness of the morgue to the happy chatter of people discussing their plans for later in the evening._

 _I couldn't help thinking about Sherlock, and John and Mary and what they were up to today. I hope they had a lovely day together. I can't help feeling a little envious that I have no family of my own to celebrate with. I wonder if I will ever see my mother again. I must admit, I felt a little nostalgic when I remembered that last Christmas I did spend it with a family for the first time in many years. It felt good to be part of a family unit and accepted, even if it turned out to be the wrong one. So here I sit, looking at my pitifully small Christmas tree and trying to remember the true meaning of Christmas rather than indulging in self-pity. It isn't easy though. I'm only human, after all. Merry Christmas, Sherlock. I hope you're having a better one than I am._

 _ **I'm sorry you had to spend another Christmas alone, and my heart aches that you did not have a relationship with your mother at the time, but that has changed. I'm glad that loneliness will never happen again, and this Christmas you will be with the right family unit. I just hope you can deal with my brother! It was sweet that you thought of me and wished I had a better Christmas than you, although of course I did not. By the time you wrote this entry, I expect I was in solitary confinement. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **December**_

 _Something bad has happened, I just know it. I texted Sherlock the day after Christmas to ask him how things went with his family visit, and he did not respond. That was a few days ago. I texted him two more times and still no response. It isn't like him. I have to say, if there's one thing I appreciate about our friendship, such as it is, he has never ignored my texts. I have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that he has done something a Bit Not Good, as John would say, and is too embarrassed or ashamed to talk to me until things blow over. I have to wonder if it was something about the newspaperman again, that case I suspect he was working on. I think I'm going to make a little visit to Baker Street and see what's going on._

 _ **You are very clever, my love, to suspect something had happened with Magnussen. As you know now, I could not answer your text at that time because my phone had been confiscated. I only got it back from Mycroft on the day I was due to leave, and the only thing I used it for was to text a goodbye to Lestrade. As you know now of course, I didn't want to just say goodbye in a text to you and I wrote you that letter when I was preparing to leave, which neither of us read until a few weeks ago. I have to wonder what might have happened if I had remembered the letter and given it to you when I saw you again after Rosie was born. If I had discovered my love for you then, perhaps the chain of events that followed which included Mary's death would not have happened. Oh well, there's no point in thinking about what might have been. XOX**_

* * *

 ** _Later, same day_**

 _Oh Diary, I'm really starting to get worried that Sherlock has got himself mixed up in something he shouldn't have. I hope he isn't back on drugs again, but I just don't know. I went over to Baker Street and Mrs Hudson opened the door for me. She told me she hasn't seen Sherlock since Christmas. What the hell is going on with him? I decided to go and visit John and Mary as well and see if they could tell me what was going on. Mary has always said I should just pop over at any time, but I did text her first and asked if I could stop by, and she said that was fine._

 _Anyway, when I got there, something just seemed_ _ **off**_. _On a good note, John and Mary seem to be close again, they were very affectionate with one another and I was glad to see it. I guess Mary's hormones have settled down. But here is the puzzling thing. I asked them if they had seen Sherlock since Christmas and they both acted really cagey. John said he thought Sherlock was doing something important for Mycroft, but seemed to not know what it was about. I got the impression he was lying, but maybe that's just me. I noticed Mary giving me an odd look at my concern. I get the distinct feeling she has guessed that my feelings for Sherlock run deeper than friendship. She has also made little hints about what a good influence I am on him, and how highly he speaks of me._

 _Actually, I remember Mary saying something awhile ago about how amazing it was that Sherlock allowed me to tell him off without making excuses on that day in the lab when I slapped him. There was this strange atmosphere at their place though, a sort of sadness that I could not understand. You would think they would be excited about the fact that they will be parents soon. Perhaps it was nervousness I detected, rather than sadness. I'm probably reading much more into this than I should. Oh well, enough deductions for now, I should really leave those to Sherlock. I guess he will turn up eventually._

 _ **I have to say, Molly, I am quite surprised John was able to keep my secret at that point, and not tell you what happened. I'm sure that was Mary's influence. John is definitely not the best person when it comes to keeping secrets. I guess John and Mary would have seemed closer as well at that point, because it was on Christmas Day that John forgave Mary for her lies, and for the fact that she shot me. Not telling you was such a burden, because I didn't want to taint your memory of Mary. I'm glad though that the truth came out when I returned from Dartmoor, and that you, in all your sweet gentleness were able to forgive her so quickly for what she had done.**_

 _ **I find it interesting that you mention here that Mary may have suspected your feelings for me, and that she knew I cared about you. It just goes to show that even though we were not truly aware of her motivations at that time, there were signs of it, and of course we know for sure now that she was convinced we belonged together. She truly was an insightful woman. You, however, my darling, are no less insightful in sensing the sadness with John and Mary. I expect that was as a result of them knowing that I was being held in solitary confinement at the time. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **January**_

 _The strangest thing happened today. Every television screen in London was filled with an image of Jim Moriarty saying "Did you miss me?" I was at work when I happened to see a TV screen do that. The weird thing is, I know very well that he's dead, so something is going on. Perhaps that explains why Sherlock has been MIA for the past week. Maybe it's something to do with Moriarty that he has been working on with Mycroft. I thought that was all over and done with years ago, and it's scary to think that a man's machinations could extend beyond the grave that way._

 _ **Well, this is something new for me. I did not know you were at work when you saw that video image. It must've been strange for you, especially as we both knew Moriarty was dead. I must admit, for a moment there, after I saw the image myself, when Mycroft showed it to be later, I had to wonder whether he might have a twin out there. Ridiculous notion of coarse. It still amazes me that Eurus and Moran were behind it, but at least it is a better explanation than an obscure twin! XOX**_

* * *

 _ **Later, same night**_

 _Well, I finally have the scoop on what has been going on with Sherlock, courtesy of John. I must admit though, I feel very hurt that Sherlock didn't tell me himself. I thought we were better friends than that. John texted me to say that there was an incident on Christmas Day in which Sherlock ended up shooting and killing that man, Magnussen. He didn't go into detail, but just said that because of it, Mycroft had decided Sherlock needed to be out of the country. Apparently he was headed to Europe when that video image of Moriarty appeared and everything changed. It appears England needs Sherlock to solve this latest mystery. John also told me he was with Sherlock when he shot the man, and that Sherlock did it to save him. Why am I not surprised? Sherlock has always been willing to sacrifice himself for his friends – I saw that when we were planning his fake suicide, and here he is, doing it again. While I am shocked to hear about Sherlock going to such extremes, I have to think he must have felt there was no other way. Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't condone what Sherlock did, but I know that that man Magnussen was evil. Everybody knows he lived to bring others down and I bet nobody will mourn his death. Funny though, I haven't seen anything about his death anyway, I guess Mycroft found a way to keep it secret._

 _I must say though, my heart aches for Sherlock. How is he coping with things, I wonder? I'm sure he is no stranger to violence, given the nature of what he had to do during his time away for two years, although I have never been game to ask about how he was able to destroy the network that had been built by Moriarty, but still, killing someone in cold blood? Oh, dear Lord, I shudder to think of it. I'm thankful that I didn't know Sherlock was being sent away until John told me that it was no longer happening. If I'd known, I would most likely have been a mess, thinking I'd never see him again. So thank God I was spared that. It's a bit like finding out someone has been in an accident, but only after you find out they are recovering. Quite unlike the horror I experienced that day when Mike told me about Sherlock being shot and for a minute or two, before I knew he was going to be okay, I thought he was dead. If Sherlock had ended up going on that mission John talked about, would he have ever been able to return? Now I have to assume his enormously resourceful brother will find a way to keep Sherlock from being penalised for what happen. Guess I'll have to wait and see._

 _ **Ah, so this is where John told you what had happened, not surprised he didn't keep the secret for very long. I knew that he told you what happened with Magnussen, he informed me about that himself later and I must admit I was rather glad that I didn't have to explain it to you. And you were right, I felt ashamed and guilty. I also felt that I deserved whatever punishment I received on that mission, even if it led to my death, which Mycroft had assured me it would.**_

 _ **When it came to what happened with Magnussen, you are also right in thinking I thought there was no other way out. If I hadn't done what I did, John would have been implicated and sent to prison as well as me, and he didn't deserve that. I miscalculated – big time. It is only by the grace of God that things were put into motion that set me free. You were right about the resourcefulness of Mycroft in finding a way to explain Magnussen's death without implicating John or myself. I will always feel guilty over what transpired, even though I know my guilt has been washed away by the blood of Jesus. Not many people would be able to say they were given a second chance after doing something so terrible. I will never stop being thankful that God spared me the judgment I deserved, and that He has blessed me instead now with you, and the baby that is even now growing inside you. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **January**_

 _Just a small comment here. News broke out in the paper today about Magnussen being killed, but no details were released about his death, except to say that it was accidental. I've always known that Sherlock's brother has a lot of influence, as I said in my last entry, because of the events that surrounded Sherlock faking his death. Mycroft was the one who had to put all the pieces together for it to be successful, after all. On this occasion, apparently he was able to do something to save his brother from being punished. I can't help but feel glad about that. The world needs Sherlock Holmes, after all, and the idea of him languishing in prison for the rest of his life is a horrible one. Sherlock still hasn't answered those texts I sent. Perhaps I'll send him another one just to ask if he is okay and to let him know that I know what happened._

 _ **Yes indeed, my brother does have a lot of pull, and I do appreciate it, that is certain. I actually had forgotten about those texts you sent, because I really didn't check my phone once I got it back from Mycroft to send that one farewell to Lestrade. He took it away from me again until the Moriarty video happened and he then returned it to me before I headed to Baker Street. I saw your texts then but I didn't want to respond until I knew things had been resolved. I'm so sorry, love. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **January**_

 _Well I did it, I sent another text and I finally heard back from Sherlock. He said he's doing fine, but he's very busy getting back into casework. He also told me he is glad that John let me know what was going on, but he doesn't feel it is something he can talk about. That was the extent of the conversation, and I feel like he is embarrassed and doesn't want to talk to me. I guess I'll just let him work through things by himself and pray that he is able to forgive himself for what he did._

 _ **My poor love, I hope you can understand that I just couldn't face you at that time. You've always been able to see me, and I knew you would be disappointed again with me. In addition, I really was extraordinarily busy with cases trying to distract myself from what happened, while I waited for Moriarty's plan to be revealed. Oh, there goes the oven timer, going to stop for now. XOX**_

.../.../.../.../.../…/…/…/

Sherlock looked up as the oven timer continued to make its beeping sound. Time to get the sausage rolls out of the oven and wake Molly. This time he was careful to put his reading glasses beside the diary under the coffee table.

He went into the kitchen and turned off the oven and the timer, then pulled the baking tray with the sausage rolls out of the oven and set them on top of the stove.

He went into the bedroom and laid a hand on Molly's shoulder to wake her.

She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him. "I smell food," she commented, raising her arms above her head and stretching.

"Just sausage rolls, I'm afraid," Sherlock informed her as the corner of his lips twitched. "You know my limits when it comes to cooking."

While Molly got dressed, Sherlock made them cups of tea and set the sausage rolls onto plates for their dinner.

As they ate, he told her about the entries he had read and responded to in her diary.

"I remember being so hurt about you not telling me what was going on," Molly remarked, as she picked up a cup of tea and took a sip. "I'm glad that John told me what had happened though, although it really would have been better coming from you."

Sherlock blew out a breath. "If you read the responses I made in your diary, you'll see why I didn't. I know I should've told you." He collected their empty plates and took them to the sink, then turned back to Molly. "Don't forget, I did write that letter to you."

She tilted her head thoughtfully before responding. "But I never saw that letter until a few weeks ago. If I had known what was going on, I would most certainly have wanted to at least see you before you left, say a final goodbye."

Sherlock walked back to the table and sat again, taking a sip of his own tea before he said, "I have to wonder how things might have happened differently if you were aware of what was going on. How would I have reacted if you had known about things?" He looked intently at her, lost in his own thoughts of what might have been.

Molly broke the silence with a question. "Sherlock, you never did tell me what happened on that day when you were supposed to leave London. Do you think you could tell me now?" She bit her lip as if wondering whether he would be offended at the question.

"Of course I'll tell you," he agreed without hesitation. "I would have told you before, if I had known you were interested."

She let out a little huff of laughter. "Of course I'm interested. I'm interested in everything about you."

And so he told her, explaining the way John and Mary had come to the airfield to see him off. He told her about the conversation where he had tried to convince John that Sherlock would be a good name for their child, and how John had said they were having a girl. Then he explained how, four minutes into the flight, he had received a call from Mycroft saying that England needed him. Then his face clouded. "There is something I never told you before," he said, looking down at his now empty tea cup and curling one hand into a fist.

Molly gave him a look of concern. "What is it, honey? You know you can tell me anything." She laid a gentle hand on his arm.

He looked at her. "As you know, that day, when I was leaving, I injected myself with drugs. I was high when I spoke to John and Mary, although I hid it very well. Of course, after we landed, the truth came out. What you don't know is that I…I almost went into cardiac arrest because I shot myself up again on the plane, after Mycroft called to say that England needed me." He looked down again, ashamed.

Molly raised her hand to his cheek and stroked it gently, and he looked at her once again. "Thank you for telling me. It sounds like this addiction has been with you for a very long time. I'm glad that you told me God took away that craving for drugs."

His lips curved upwards, and he brought his face closer to Molly, bestowing a tender kiss on her lips. "It's true. I have not once been tempted to return to using, not since I realised I loved you. I think the love I have for you, and for God as well, has filled that empty place that I used to try to fill with a drug-induced high." Then he added, "I would have been embarrassed for you to have seen me in that state, though. I know how disappointed you would have been with me."

"Disappointed yes, but it wouldn't have made me love you any less. I would have tried to help you through it." Then her expression changed and she looked rather thoughtful. "What I wonder more about is what would've happened if you had shown me the letter when things settled down, and discovered for yourself what was in it."

Sherlock furrowed his brow, and took her hand. "Intriguing thoughts aren't they?" He stroked the back of her hand, fingering her engagement ring as he often did, marveling about his life as it was now. But still, there would always be questions. about what _might_ have been for them if things had happened differently. "Well, the dreams we both had last week, which showed alternate versions of our reality from after the time I was shot, were very interesting, weren't they? Perhaps we shall dream again and this time see an alternate version of events surrounding that time instead."

Molly twirled a piece of hair around her finger. "Now that would be interesting, we will have to make a point to think about it before we go to sleep later and maybe our subconscious minds will take it into account."

"I like that idea, my darling, but for now, let us enjoy reality." And with these words he stood and pulled Molly out of her chair and into his arms for some delightful and very _real_ kissing.

A little later, he retrieved the diary and sat with her as she caught up on the comments he had made since her last read-through, and they spent some time discussing them.

Later that night, when they were both in bed and ready to sleep after their usual enjoyment of the marriage bed, Sherlock remembered Molly's words and reminded her about them.

And dream they both did. Surprisingly, Molly's dream was the one which wove itself around events in which she knew Sherlock was being sent away, while Sherlock's took a different turn, as he gave the letter to Molly soon after the fact, rather than waiting months to show her as had actually happened during their engagement.

* * *

 **Author's note:** What are your thoughts about the events surrounding Sherlock's almost permanent exile. Do you think he would have spoken to Molly before or after he was almost sent away for good? Another window of opportunity for us to muse about. Share your thoughts with me in your review!

[Molly's dream is _From Friends with Benefits to Endless Love,_ and Sherlock's is _The Accidental Love Letter,_ so stand by for these stories to be published before I continue the diary. Please note, Molly's dream will be M-rated due to the sensitive subject material. It's a story about making choices that are contrary to what I believe is God's will for us as set forth in the Bible, but it is also one that talks about repentance and forgiveness. Christians are not exempt from temptation or succumbing to it. I hope you will consider reading that story bearing that in mind. I will elaborate further in the story itself.]


	17. New Baby & 'What If' Reflections

**Wednesday, September 20th, 2017**

Dinner was over and Sherlock and Molly had spent some time discussing their dreams of the night before while sitting on the sofa together.

"I still can't believe you dreamed we had a friends with benefits relationship after I was saved from going to Europe on that one-way mission."

Molly tilted her head to one side and looked at him. "I might have been tempted, if you had really asked me to come to the airfield and see you off instead of leaving me in the dark. That is, if you had made the first move like you did in the dream."

He shook his head. "I don't believe it for an instant, sweetheart. We've discussed the whole friends with benefits thing, after you had that lunch date with Meena before we got married. The whole idea disgusted you."

Molly's lips twitched. "Perhaps so, but in my dream I justified it because I loved you, even though you didn't love me."

He enveloped her left hand in both of his and stroked his thumb over her engagement ring. "It's still not you, the real you, I mean. Although I quite liked the way the story progressed through Sherrinford and I finally did the right thing by you."

Molly nodded. "Yeah, it was an interesting dream, but yours was interesting too. Do you think if you'd shown me your letter back then you would have denied your feelings for me?"

Sherlock gave a rueful smile. "Quite possibly, and you would have had a right to be angry with the mixed signals the dream version of me was giving you if that had been the reality of what occurred. But that dream came right in the end too, and the best part was that my dream had me becoming a Christian, mostly because of you."

Molly leaned her head against his shoulder. "I liked that better than mine, because your dream didn't follow as closely with real life. In my dream I had to deal with Mary's death, your subsequent drug addiction and that phone call as well. In your dream you didn't follow up with the case that led to Mary's death."

He gave her a pained look. "I'm very glad about that. I'd very much rather not relive that over and over. Being present for it once was quite enough, especially knowing it was my fault." His hand tightened convulsively on hers.

"Honey, I know you still hold yourself responsible for what happened, but that woman was mad. She was already carrying a gun and I believe she had every intention of killing you to save herself. If Mary hadn't been there, you probably wouldn't be here now."

Sherlock turned his head slightly to kiss Molly's temple. "Perhaps." In his heart he knew she was right, but the pain of it would always be there nonetheless.

Molly yawned suddenly. "Why am I so sleepy all of a sudden?" She rubbed a hand across her eyes.

"Go and take a nap, sweetheart." He knew she had had a busy day at work and from what he had read, fatigue was common in early pregnancy due to to hormone changes.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Care to join me?"

His lips twitched. "Tempting as the offer is, I doubt you would get any sleep if I joined you, so I think I might take some time for reading your diary again instead."

Molly pouted at him but then gave him a quick kiss and got to her feet. He could see the lines of fatigue around her eyes, and knew he'd made the right decision. Besides, if Molly had a rest now, she would be less likely to fall asleep on him later when it was time for them to enjoy their usual evening romantic pursuits.

He watched as Molly walked wearily towards the bedroom, then, as usual, picked up his reading glasses and put them on, took the diary, found the correct page and began to read.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

 _ **January**_

 _Diary, I have the best news! John and Mary have had their baby! It was a bit unexpected, she wasn't due for another four weeks. This is the funny part though. Sherlock, with whom I have had no contact outside of work (and that only minimal), since that text where he said he didn't want to talk about what had happened with that Magnussen man, was the one who let me know. I must admit, my heart fluttered as it always does, when I heard a text alert come in and saw it was from him. I'm going to transcribe the exact conversation here because it was rather amusing - to me, not so much for Sherlock. Typical of Sherlock too, no greeting, just straight into the conversation. I'lll put comments in parenthesis on what I was thinking between each text:_

 _SH: Thought it might interest you to know that John and Mary have had their baby. (Like I said, a bit of a surprise because the baby was early so I responded as follows)_

 _ME: That's wonderful! Everything okay? Boy or girl? How did you find out? (I could see those dots that indicated he was responding and wow, what a response! Sherlock was obviously rattled, I've never received such a long text from him before)_

 _SH: John and I had just returned from a case when his phone buzzed. As soon as he noted he had 59 missed calls it was rather obvious what was happening. We raced to his place in his car, making several traffic violations in the process. (No idea why he felt the need to share about the traffic violations, but that's Sherlock for you. Perhaps he was trying to mitigate his own responsibility in keeping John out so long and thus missing those calls, and was trying to prove he and John did their best to get to Mary after that as soon as possible? I'm no detective but that's my best guess. Actually, Mary and I had a conversation just yesterday and she complained about the way Sherlock was dragging John out on all these cases when she was getting closer to her due date. But, to continue...)_

 _SH: Got Mary into the car and John began to drive to the hospital but we had to pull over before we got there. The baby did not want to cooperate and wait - girl, by the way. As a result, I have been traumatised with the image of a woman screaming bloody murder and a baby appearing from between Mary's legs. In fact, I may never recover._

 _We texted back and forth for a few more minutes, and Sherlock said that John and Mary were very tired and not up to visitors, so I thought I'd wait until Mary is home from the hospital to visit. I don't think I have ever had such a long text conversation with Sherlock before, so he was obviously rattled by everything that had happened and needed someone to express his feelings with about it._

 _Once we had stopped with our conversation, I couldn't help laughing a little. The idea of Sherlock being at the birth of any baby is quite hysterical. He's very clinical and calm when it comes to corpses, but I can well imagine him much preferring to see a baby all nice and clean after being born, not during. The poor love. I also thought it was rather funny that he was talking about how he felt, rather than understanding how much pain Mary was obviously in and sympathising with it. But, of course, that doesn't surprise me. Sherlock isn't really one for being able to put himself in someone else's shoes. He uses his brilliant observational skills to notice what others miss, but when it comes to noticing what is inside a person, not so much._

 _It's funny, I'll never forget when he told me I could see him. It was like he had this moment of clarity, where he knew I saw past the surface, yet he doesn't seem capable of being able to see beneath the surface himself. Although there was that one time, when he actually seemed to be making an effort to understand someone. I still remember it. It was on that day we spent together, when I was acting as his temporary assistant. There was a client who had come over to Baker Street with her stepfather, who was upset about the way her pen-pal's emails had stopped. Sherlock was holding her hands comfortingly and he said, (I can only remember this because my heart almost stopped when he gave me this rather intense look right after he said it.)_

 _He said to the young woman in such a kind tone, "And you really thought he was the one, didn't you? The love of your life?" When Sherlock looked at me after he said that, it was almost as if he could actually see into my heart. In hindsight, I think that was the moment I started seriously doubting my engagement with Tom. But that isn't the point I'm trying to make here. What I'm trying to say is that I had never seen Sherlock act sympathetic before and my heart just about burst with emotion. So I guess he is capable of feeling sympathy, he does have a heart buried deep within him. I just wish I knew why he can't just embrace it. Sherlock Holmes is such a complex man. Perhaps that is why I continue to love him. There are so many layers to him and I do believe he has shed some of them over the years I've know him._

 _For example, the texts we shared today. The old Sherlock would never have spent so much time sharing anything with me, elaborating, so it does make me feel we've progressed somewhat in our relationship. But after 7 years of knowing him, it does give me pause for thought, that there is still so much he is holding back. Oh well, maybe in another 7 years he will have softened enough to open himself to love someone truly. I think it would change him completely if he knew and understood love properly. Even if it were with someone other than me, I wish for his happiness (much as it hurts me to say that). Perhaps that is why I continue to cling to the tiny shred of hope I have that one day he will see ME differently, love ME - because he hasn't fallen for someone else. If that happened, I'd have to give up on him once and for all._

 _Oh, now I have the words sung by Eponine in her song "On My Own" in Les Miserables running through my mind._

 _"On my own, pretending he's beside me_

 _All alone, I walk with him till morning_

 _Without him I feel his arms around me_

 _And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me."_

 _And the end of the song "I love him, but only on my own."_

 _Appropriate, don't you think? Oh darn it, now I'm starting to cry. Enough of the self-pity, Molly Hooper. You are stronger than this. Right, I think I'm going to conclude this diary entry now. It has been quite an essay. I must admit though, it is nice to have somewhere to place my thoughts and feelings when I don't have anyone I feel I can really confide in about my true feelings. it's a burden I must carry alone, just between God and me._

 _Wait, now I have this running through my mine, thank you for the reminder, God._

 _"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding, in all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your paths."_

 _ **Oh my darling, I believe this was your longest entry so far, well, perhaps the one where you talked about my funeral was longer, but this came close. I will need extra paper to respond to it. I'll just tear out some sheets from the back of your diary (thank goodness there are still some left), and insert them into your diary at this point.**_

 _ **Where do I begin to respond to this? I suppose I shall just address it bit by bit.**_

 _ **How clearly I remember that night when Mary gave birth. I found your words very insightful. I didn't think beyond my own feelings about what happened, you are correct. All I could think about was how irritating her screams were and how they were much louder than the ones I emitted under torture myself. I think you were right that I felt a little guilty about us not making it to the hospital. I didn't think at the time either of the miraculous nature of a child emerging from a woman's body, all I could think of was just how unpleasant it all was. As John would say, I was an utter cock about things.**_

 _ **Of course, now I look forward to that day with you, and in being present at the birth of our child. I do think that the experience of seeing Mary in pain is why I pushed so hard for you to have an epidural. I just don't want my wife to be in that kind of pain.**_

 _ **How insightful, the way you recalled that day when I said you could see me., and yet, I couldn't reciprocate. When I came to you that night, it was because you COULD see me that I had to come to you. It wasn't just that I needed your help, although that was certainly part of it. But part of it is that I needed to know that you knew I wasn't a fraud, that I was who I thought I was. Moriarty was messing with my mind and he had me doubting myself. Your validation and willingness to help me meant more to me than you will ever know. I know I've said this many times, but thank you for trusting me, even as I trusted you. How I love you, my sweet angel, sent from heaven for me.**_

 _ **Oh yes, the woman on the sofa with the snake of a stepfather. I did pity her, I must admit. it's true I didn't generally allow myself to be emotionally invested in a case, but she was so sad, so vulnerable. I don't really know why I looked at you after I said that, perhaps I was trying to show you I had the capacity for sympathy for another human being. I do know that subconsciously I was looking for validation from you that day that my time away had not reduced my deductive capabilities. If only I had explored the reasons behind my wanting to impress you, not that it would have made a difference at that time because you were engaged to someone else. I fear I am travelling into the land of "what if" as seems to be happening frequently since I began this diary!**_

 _ **Oh, my darling, you peeled the layers from me carefully, but Sherrinford ripped the rest off in one fell swoop and despite the agony of all those emotions that flooded through me, I do not regret it. Who knows how much longer it would have taken for you to expose me fully? I thank God it didn't take me another seven years of careful peeling by you. No other woman in the world would have had the patience you had with me, nor would anyone else have interested me in the slightest. If I was ever going to understand true love, it was always only going to be because of you, experiencing it with you.**_

 _ **When I read the lines to the song you wrote down, my heart ached to think of how you were feeling so alone. I will never permit you to feel you are on your own again, my love.**_

 _ **I've noticed how often you have found comfort in Bible passages. Your faith still astounds me, it humbles me.**_

 _ **I shall not read further today. It's time to wake you from your nap anyway. XOX**_

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Sherlock walked into the bedroom and gazed at his sleeping wife, then looked over at the alarm clock. It was past nine already. If he woke her and they had a shower together, he could talk with her afterwards a little about the latest entry he had read and commented on, and by then it would be time to go to bed anyway.

So he undressed and then shook Molly gently. "Wake up, love. Would you like to share a shower with me and then we can get all cosy in bed together afterwards?"

She blinked up at him sleepily and then her eyes widened slightly. "I see you're already ready for your shower. Are you planning on us actually just showering this time, or having your way with me in the shower before we get into bed?" She raised an eyebrow and sat up in the bed.

Sherlock was treated to a view of of his apparently also ready-for-a-shower wife. There were definitely benefits to sleeping naked. His eyes sparkled. "Ladies choice." He leaned towards her, intending to brush his lips against hers.

Instead of getting up though, Molly pulled him down onto her. "I choose now, before the shower."

The warm invitation of her body called to him and he was only too eager to comply to her demands.

On this occasion, having temporarily appeased the fire that always burned between them, they showered together without further distraction, then returned to the comforts of their bed.

Once they were comfortably settled in it, Molly said, "How did the reading go this evening?"

"I would venture to say the entry I read was one of the longest one you made. It was several pages long. I even ended up taking your advice and tearing out a couple pages at the end of your diary so I could respond properly."

Molly's hand idly rubbed circles onto his chest before she responded. "That would have to be the one I wrote about John and Mary having their baby. Yesterday we were talking about all the events surrounding you almost having to leave the country."

Sherlock stilled her hand. When she trailed her fingers along his chest it always did things to him and he wanted to talk about that diary entry a little at least first. "You had a lot to say about it, love. Some very insightful comments too."

With her hand captured in his, her toes crept up his leg from ankle to knee, rubbing along it.

Obviously he was going to have to be quick if he wanted to give her his thoughts on what he had read. He quickly recounted his thoughts on what she had written about the lovelorn young woman.

Molly sighed then and stopped the movement of her foot temporarily. "That day will always haunt me as one that had so much potential to have changed things for us. I remember how very aware of you I was and how when you looked at me then, and again later, that my heart was not behaving as it should for someone who was just a friend. I really should have saved Tom the misery of those extra months of stalling because of my own confused feelings."

Sherlock shifted his body so he was facing her and released her hand so he could place his hand on her hip. "If I'd been aware of my own feelings then instead of repressing them, if I had known I wanted to be with you at that point, maybe you would have broken off your engagement because you were aware that I returned your feelings."

Molly's foot resumed its rubbing along his leg even as her hand reached up to touch his still damp curls. "Just think of what might have happened then, if I arrived at Baker Street that night without Tom, as a free woman."

"Mm." He suddenly felt like it was time to end the conversation and return to non-verbal communication. "Perhaps we can return to the land of 'what if' in our dreams, but for now-" he leaned into her and kissed her.

He was constantly amazed at how quickly his body could bounce back and be ready to indulge in the delights of Molly's sweet temptation. She was like one of those sirens who called to Odysseus in a book he had read many years earlier at secondary school. It was just as well Molly's temptation wasn't one that would have such devastating effects. He yielded to the flames rising once again within him and swept her away with him into their own personal piece of heaven.

Then, satisfied once more, he gave himself over to sleep and his mind took over, giving forth yet another dream from the land of "what if" as Molly's subconscious did the same. Oh yes, they definitely had a pre-disposition for these dreams, it would seem.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I know, it has been months since I last published a chapter of the diary. I'm sorry for the long delay, but I did want to publish those dreams first to keep to my chronological timeline, especially because in this chapter Sherlock and Molly discuss those dreams. If you haven't read them, I hope I have piqued your curiosity enough to take a look.

This was a pretty hefty chapter in terms of insight through Molly's eyes about Sherlock in her diary. What did you think of it? This is my dad canon, that Sherlock was someone who found it difficult to put himself in someone else's shoes and have sympathy for their plight. That scene with the young woman always struck me as one that showed his time away had wrought some changes in him. I found it utterly sweet, the way he behaved towards her. Did you ever notice that?

I will resume this Diary in the new year. First I have two more dreams to publish, but in this instance, they are short ones. Sherlock's dream, _From Revelations to Celebrations_ is only 2 chapters long and Molly's, _From the Wrong Man tot he Right One_ " is 3 chapters. But before these stories I will be publishing my Christmas story for 2019. I know some of you have been looking forward to seeing my "real" characters again. The big story I had initially planned with my "real" characters to coincide with the summer and early fall was derailed by my father-in-law's passing after which I ended up writing my story about Loss instead. I do still plan to finish that one though and publish it sometime next year. The Christmas story is 4 chapters long which is why I want to start publishing it before Christmas to keep it timely for the season.

The scripture passage quoted in Molly's diary is **Proverbs 3:5,6. (NKJV)** I encourage you to also put your trust in Jesus as Lord and Saviour.

 **Update2/20/20:** One additional note. My Victorian dream story, _The Princess and the Scholar_ , takes place the night after this chapter occurs, which precedes the next chapter. If you wish to read in chronological order, that one would be next. Time is running it for people to read that story. It is currently in huge revision on my iPad being altered into an original story for professional publication. When I am ready to publish the revised story, I will remove _The Princess and the Scholar_ from this website because of the similar nature of the storyline. Wouldn't want to accuse myself of plagiarism LOL. So, read it while you can. Because of my future plans, I have not made corrections to the story as I have done with many other stories, as it will be eventually removed.

As always, follows, favourites and feedback are appreciated.


	18. Seeing the Baby & The Secret is Out

**Friday, September 22nd, 2017**

When the alarm went off at five-thirty in the morning, Sherlock opened his eyes. Molly didn't stir. He bent over her to turn off the alarm and contemplated what to do.

The previous day, Molly had been plagued with morning sickness the entire day, well past midnight. She was unable to keep anything down, not even water.

When she had finally come to bed at around one in the morning, her sleep had been interrupted twice as she had had a dream where she had been a princess and Sherlock had been a prince. Two passion sessions in between the two stages of the dream meant that she had probably had less than three hours of sleep.

 _Should I wake her or let her sleep?_ he wondered to himself. Molly had been forced to take a day off the previous day due to being sick. Reluctantly, he decided to wake her and let her decide if she wished to take another day off.

He bent over and kissed her on the lips, then said softly, "Molly, wake up."

She opened up her eyes slowly and looked blearily at him. "Is it time to get up already?" He could hear the drowsiness in her voice.

"I'm afraid so, love, unless you want me to call work for you so you can have another day off?"

Molly pushed the duvet down and Sherlock was treated to a glimpse of her unclothed body. "No, it's alright," she answered with a sigh. "If I take another day off, things will just get behind at work and I want to save my sick days in case I have any more days like yesterday."

"Well, if you're sure." He threw off the covers and got out of bed.

"Why are you getting up?" questioned Molly, as she too rose from the bed.

"Thought I'd get you breakfast and some coffee while you get ready."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, sweetheart. In that case I might take a quick shower, seeing as I didn't get one yesterday."

While Molly took her shower, Sherlock dressed himself hastily and went to the kitchen to prepare crumpets and coffee. He was still not willing to recreate the disaster of trying to make eggs and bacon as he had done during their engagement. That would have to wait until he could observe Molly to learn how to do it properly.

He opened the fridge to get out the milk for Molly's coffee and was suddenly hit with a feeling of nostalgia for the days when the fridge had contained various body parts on which to experiment. Now it was stocked with food instead.

Sherlock admitted to himself he did at times miss doing those experiments. He had set up a lab in 221C downstairs a few weeks before he and Molly had been married, but had not yet had the opportunity to even use his new microscope, let alone conduct any experiments.

As Sherlock added sugar to his and Molly's coffee, then the milk to hers, he considered the matter of whether he could resume experimenting.

 _What if we move this fridge downstairs and buy another one?_ he thought to himself. The thought pleased him. He knew Molly had always felt a little uncomfortable about the way the fridge had once been a storage unit for kidneys, eyeballs, thumbs and other body parts. She hadn't come out and complained, but he'd seen it in her eyes when she had cleaned out some dried blood that had congealed at the bottom of the fridge from some experiment or another when she had given it a thorough clean.

Yes, Sherlock decided, it was time for a new fridge, but he wouldn't worry about saying anything right now. Molly had to get to work and besides, she would undoubtedly be too tired to have a productive conversation before work.

He spread the crumpets with butter and honey and sat down to wait.

When Molly sat down beside him, Sherlock noted that the shower had definitely helped to wake her up. She still had slight lines of fatigue about her eyes, but they were no longer looking dull and lifeless. And oh, did she smell wonderful. He never got tired of the scents that perfumed her skin.

After he kissed Molly goodbye, and she left for work, Sherlock cleaned up the breakfast dishes and set up his client chair to prepare for the first client. He had initially intended to see the man the previous day, but had called to reschedule it to today after Molly had started feeling sick.

There were two other clients who had been similarly rescheduled as well for the day.

The first client was dealt with successfully. As often happened, just the additional information the client could provide was enough for Sherlock to determine the solution.

As he was eating a sandwich for lunch, a text came in from Molly. Sherlock picked up his phone. He was very glad he had changed his phone settings to enlarge the font so didn't require reading glasses to read texts anymore.

 _I guess our secret's out._

Sherlock immediately understood and responded.

 _It was bound to happen soon, anyway. I suppose it was the fact that you have had two sick days in a short period of time?_

 _You really know how to spoil things before I can even explain, don't you, honey?_ she responded, following it by an emoji with a sticking out tongue.

Sherlock smiled to himself.

 _That's what happens when you marry a consulting detective. Deductions are par for the course. Sorry, love. Tell me what happened, and I will try to refrain from making further comment until you have finished._

 _Thank you for your consideration and restraint._

This was followed by a winky face emoji and another text.

 _Anyway, as you deduced, a few people have been talking about me taking two sick days when they know I rarely do that. Theories were swirling around, and I was getting a couple of knowing looks and comments about being sick, but I wasn't telling. But then I was in the middle of doing a post-mortem when I suddenly felt sick and had to rush off quickly to the loo. The smell just affected me in a way it hadn't before._

Sherlock waited a few seconds. He was sure this wouldn't be the end of the story, but he couldn't help responding.

 _So, does that mean Mike Stamford now knows? Is he going to take you off of post-mortem duty until you no longer feel sick around corpses?_

He grinned at Molly's response a couple minutes later.

 _I thought you were going to restrain yourself from further comment. I thought I'd just take a bite of my sandwich before continuing, and there you go, making deductions again. Now quit interrupting!_

She followed her text with an angry face emoji, followed by another sticking out tongue one. His wife was certainly enjoying using those emojis these days, he reflected. He waited patiently for her next text, eating the rest of his own sandwich while he waited for her rather lengthy text.

 _To answer your question, yes. I actually went to Mike in his office and asked if someone else could finish up the post-mortem. Obviously I had to explain why. He told me that he'll restrict me to lab work and other paperwork until I feel able to go back to my usual routine. Of course, after that, the news spread and anyone I didn't tell, Kaitlyn did. She's been dying to tell everyone for weeks now, but she really was marvellous at keeping quiet. Now you may respond._

 _Thank you for your gracious consideration in allowing me to respond,_ he texted back teasingly.

He continued with, _I guess that means it is time to finish telling our circle of friends and make it official. Next time I'm at the Yard I will let Greg know. Once you arrive home, we will go downstairs together and inform Mrs. Hudson of the happy news. She will undoubtedly be delighted, but I'm guessing she might be a little cross that she was almost the last to know. I think I will allow you to make the announcement, because she would most likely just tell me off for not telling her immediately. See you tonight, love. Next client will be here soon._

He sent off the text and waited for Molly's thumbs up emoji. He put his plate in the sink and waited for his next client.

Another two successful case resolutions later, and Sherlock decided he had a little time to read some of Molly's diary.

Getting himself situated as usual, he began to read the next installment.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

 _ **September**_

 _I got to see John and Mary's baby today! Mary came home from the hospital and I just couldn't wait to visit. Little baby Watson, she doesn't have a name yet apparently, is so precious._

 _When I arrived at the Watsons' flat, Sherlock and Mrs Hudson were already there. I haven't spoken to Sherlock since the texts he sent after the birth, and in fact, this was only the second time I had seen him since before Christmas, which was weeks ago. The other time was in relation to a case when he came into the hospital to look at the body of a man who had been strangled, and we didn't really talk much about that, except that I commented on something that apparently helped Sherlock, because he gave me a big, rare smile afterwards. He's always going on about how "once you eliminate the impossible, what remains must be the truth." Well, there was no evidence of a break-in in the bedsit these two brothers shared, nor apparent motive for the man's death, no life insurance policy for the younger brother to inherit. So I pointed out the murderer had to be the younger brother somehow, although the men seemed to have a close, caring relationship according to neighbours. Both men had medical issues, but the younger brother really was the one who took care of his older brother. That seemed to click with Sherlock. I wonder what the outcome of that case was?_

 _Obviously Sherlock is keeping himself busy with cases and burning the midnight oil, because we've spoken so little. I feel as though there is a distance between us because of what happened on Christmas Day. I'm no detective, but I suspect Sherlock feels guilt about it, and that is why he doesn't want to talk about it with me. I hope at least he has someone to talk to about it. I can imagine something like that causing pTSD and requiring therapy. Perhaps he is using work also to distract himself from thoughts of what happened._

 _Anyway, when I saw him, he was a sight for sore eyes, and I could feel my heart beating fast in my chest just looking at him, as always happens. Thank God he's not a mind reader. Mind you, he was too busy on his phone to pay any attention to me, anyway. I am guessing he is still trying to find out how that image of Moriarty appeared all over the country, in addition to doing other cases. I hope he can find some answers about that image. The idea of someone being able to take over all the airwaves like that is a sobering thought. If anyone can get to the truth though, I know it will be Sherlock._

 _Anyway, as usual I seem to go off on a tangent every time I write. All roads (or writings) lead to Sherlock. My real purpose in writing this entry is to talk about the baby. She really is so tiny and so perfect. Holding her in my arms made me long so desperately for a child of my own. I would so like to be a mother, but I know that at this point, my prospects are not looking good. I had the opportunity for that when I was with Tom. When I ended my engagement to him I knew in my heart that unless by some miracle Sherlock began to return my feelings, motherhood is not an option for me. Although that hurts, I just pray that God has good things in store for me somehow. Perhaps I will get the opportunity to babysit John and Mary's baby, and that will be some consolation in not having a child of my own. I did tell them I'd be available to babysit whenever I'm not working if they need someone._

 _When I was young, I did a lot of babysitting in my neighbourhood, including at one stage looking after twins sometimes. Being an only child meant I sometimes felt sad I didn't have anyone to share my hopes and dreams with. If I ever had children, I'd want at least two. Being an only child is rather lonely. Babysitting was fun, and it gave me the opportunity to not only earn some money, but also to spend time with little children. If I hadn't decided to go into the field of pathology, perhaps I would have decided to be a teacher, nurturing young minds. Kayla is a nursery school teacher, and I love hearing stories from her about the things her little charges get up to! Anyway, once again, I am just rambling. Can you tell I have no life when I can spend ages just writing in this diary? Back to John and Mary and their baby._

 _I was so touched when they asked me (as well as Mrs Hudson) to be godmother to the baby. What an honour that is. I don't really know how strong John and Mary are when it comes to faith, but I am determined that I will be an example for it as the baby grows. I will take my responsibility seriously. I can't say the same for Sherlock, who was asked to be godfather, and he spouted some nonsense about God being a "ludicrous fiction". I still remember his rather rude remarks at John and Mary's wedding and the clear sign that he is an atheist, although I still pray that his feelings on that will change one day. In any case, Sherlock seemed very distracted and wouldn't even give John a definite answer on being godfather, so I guess we will see what happens with that._

 _So today was a good day. John and Mary seem to be very loving towards one another and their daughter. I had noticed some tension between them on the few occasions I saw them after they returned from their honeymoon. I assume the idea of adjusting to impending parenthood was rather difficult. It's good to see them looking so happy together. I must say, I hope that Mary and I will get the opportunity to get to know one another better. She told me that she's an orphan, and I might as well be one myself, having not seen my mother for years. We seem to have a lot in common that way, being alone in the world, in a way._

 _ **As usual, my love, you are so intuitive when it comes to things concerning me. I was indeed using the cases as a distraction, not only from the drugs, which I should not have returned to in the first place, it was foolish of me, but also to not think about the fact that I murdered an unarmed man. I felt ashamed, Molly. I also felt unworthy of your constant friendship, so I kept my distance from you, including that day in the lab when I was looking at the corpse of that man. Incidentally, I apologise for not telling you about this. You were right about that case - it was Joel Fentiman's brother who committed the crime while under the influence of heart medication that led to amnesia about the events that had occurred. A very sad thing indeed. Don't ask me how I still remember the name. You know I usually delete the unimportant facts from closed cases, but then, I did have that love letter dream and remembered the name there too, so perhaps the memory of his name reactivated in my brain as a result.**_

 _ **I read your words about my talk of God, and I see now how narrow-minded I was, unwilling to accept the truth of God's existence. At that time, it was more just an automatic reaction to the word "god" when I was asked to be godfather. Now, I take the title seriously, as you do, and will endeavour to be a worthy godparent to Rosamund. Of course, I will also do my best to be a worthy father to our child. Very happy to accommodate your wish for one ;)**_

 _ **I must also note here that, as you know now, John and Mary's closeness was only as a result of John finally coming to terms with her past. Sadly, I have experienced firsthand John holding a grudge, and it did take him several months to forgive Mary. With my various failings, I must say that holding a grudge is not one of them. We all have our struggles to contend with, don't we?**_

 _ **I do believe you and Mary could have developed a close friendship had she lived, although I have to wonder whether she would have eventually told you about shooting me. I am very thankful that your tender heart offered her forgiveness posthumously only a week after you discovered the truth during our engagement. I still regret the way that happened, but at least after that there were no more secrets between us. XOX**_

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Sherlock was about to move onto the next entry when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He glanced at his watch. He hadn't even realised the passage of time.

He took off the reading glasses, closed the diary and placed both neatly under the coffee table then went to the door and opened it before Molly had the chance to do so.

He offered her a swift kiss and helped to take off her jacket, then turned her around.

"Let's go tell Mrs. Hudson about the baby," he said, and Molly nodded.

Together they walked down the stairs, and Sherlock knocked at Mrs. Hudson's door.

The elderly woman opened it with a surprised look on her face. "Hello, dears. Did you smell my cooking? There's enough for all of us if you want to share and have a chat. I haven't seen much of you since you've been back from your honeymoon. She pursed her lips at them.

Sherlock sniffed the air appreciatively. He hadn't noticed until she said something, but the smell of spaghetti did seem rather appetising. He knew Molly's special pasta sauce was superior to Mrs. Hudson's, but if the elderly woman was offering a free meal, he wouldn't complain.

"I apologise, Mrs. Hudson. We are still settling in to married life. However, if you are willing to entertain us, I'm sure Molly would be only too pleased to not have to cook this evening."

Mrs. Hudson ushered them in, and Sherlock sat at the kitchen table while Molly reached for tea cups. "I noticed you didn't go to work yesterday, Molly," remarked the older woman as she took plates from the cupboard and began to serve the spaghetti. A pot of tea was already ready on the table, almost as if she had been expecting them.

Molly gave her a rather weary smile and glanced at Sherlock, who nodded his assent. He was happy to have Molly announce the news.

"Well, actually, that has something to do with why we came downstairs."

Mrs. Hudson gave her a curious look. "You do look tired, dear," she noted. Then she added with a sly wink, "I suppose Sherlock is keeping you up at all hours enjoying your newly married status."

Molly blushed as she set the cups on the table and turned back to Mrs. Hudson. She cleared her throat. "Well, actually, I was quite sick yesterday, and I do experience quite frequent nausea lately."

Mrs. Hudson almost dropped the plate she was carrying, but stopped herself just before the spaghetti slid off the side and steadied it, then laid it down onto the table in front of Sherlock. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Molly smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson. I'm pregnant."

Mrs. Hudson put her arms around Molly and gave her a warm hug then walked over to Sherlock Who stood and accepted a hug from her as well.

"Oh, my dears, I have been hoping this would happen for you. I just can't believe it! There's going to be a baby at Baker Street!" Then she added hastily, "Not that I don't love seeing little Rosie when she is here, but that is different than having a baby actually living here. Congratulations to both of you!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," responded Sherlock as his landlady returned to the task of filling the other two plates with spaghetti.

As they began to eat, Mrs. Hudson remarked, "I must admit, I had a feeling you might get pregnant on your honeymoon, Molly. I'm assuming that is when it happened?" She beamed at them both, as if she personally had seen to it that the circumstances were perfect for the conception of their baby.

Sherlock's lips quirked in amusement; he remembered telling Molly only a few days earlier that he thought Mrs. Hudson would try to take credit for the warm summer breeze that had enabled them to enjoy their outdoor passion sessions. Those little romantic escapades had taken place in the delightfully secluded wood that surrounded the property of the bed-and-breakfast at which they had stayed on their honeymoon.

Molly cast him a sly glance, and he knew she was also remembering the same thing. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, it definitely happened on our honeymoon."

"So, are you hoping for a boy or girl?" asked the landlady curiously.

Sherlock and Molly exchanged glances again. "Actually, we haven't even thought that far ahead, Mrs. Hudson. I know I will just be happy with whatever God gives us, and we are just praying that the baby will be healthy," Molly responded.

Mrs. Hudson continued to chatter on about the baby and things they would need to prepare for its arrival as the meal progressed. By the end of it, Sherlock's head was swimming with all the baby talk. Mrs. Hudson had asked if Molly was planning to breastfeed, to which Molly had responded that of course she was. The elderly lady wondered if Molly was planning a home birth to which he had responded that no, Molly would be having their baby in a hospital and having an epidural because he didn't want her to be in copious amounts of pain. Another question followed as to whether Molly was going back to work soon after the baby's birth? To this, Molly responded that she had made no decisions as yet on how long she would take for maternity leave.

"She asked more questions than the midwife," remarked Sherlock as they headed back upstairs afterwards.

Molly grinned at him. "I think It's lovely that she's so interested. It shows that she thinks of you like a son."

They entered 221B and Sherlock closed and locked the door behind them. "I suppose now she will be popping in at all hours to ask how you and the baby are doing," he said rather grumpily.

Molly smirked. "Are you feeling jealous at the fact that you might not be the one who gets all the attention for the next few months?"

Sherlock pulled her over to his chair, and onto his lap, then held her in his arms.

"If she wants to mollycoddle you, she may do so, as long as you Molly _cuddle_ me," he told her in no uncertain terms. He grinned at his own joke.

Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave a huge yawn. "You know, Sherlock, I think I need to turn in early for the night. As you know, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Would you like some Molly _cuddling_ before I go to sleep?

"I think I could be persuaded," he answered, capturing her lips with his own in a lingering kiss as he used a hand to release her hair and then stroked the unbound tresses. He tasted the slight garlic aftertaste of the spaghetti, a little more subtle than the garlic which Molly used quite liberally in her own pasta sauce.

Finally, their lips parted and hand-in-hand they headed to the bedroom for some very special Molly _cuddling_ of their own.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Finally, Mrs. Hudson is in the know about the baby - it was about time, wasn't it?

So, what did you think about the Mollycoddling/cuddling thing? I just happened to see that word and realized it could have a cute alteration.

Before I publish the next chapter, I will be publishing _Visitors at Sherrinford,_ which is a Eurus POV as Sherlock and Molly go to visit her the day after the one on which this chapter takes place. The next diary entry occurs after that visit, so chronologically I want to publish in order so you can read that one-shot first. I've not tried doing a Eurus POV story before so I hope you will give it a try and let me know what you think of it after you read.

 **Final Note:** There are references to several of my stories in this chapter - _A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage; A Honeymoon Journey;_ and _The Accidental Love Letter_.


	19. A Baptism Reflection & Quiet Discussion

**Saturday, September 23rd, 2017**

Sherlock and Molly were cuddled together on the sofa, having come home a short while earlier from a quiet, later than usual, dinner at Angelo's.

Sherlock had deliberately avoided the topic of his sister as they ate dinner, not wishing to discuss things in a public setting. He had been very pleased with the way the visit had gone earlier that day. It was the first time Molly had met Eurus, and Sherlock was proud of his wife. She showed no sign of being intimidated by Eurus, nor did she bear any secret resentment towards the other woman for forcing the emotional conversation with Sherlock that had caused Molly such torment for three days. That was how long it had taken Sherlock to sort things through in his mind palace and purchase an engagement ring for Molly, knowing he was totally, irrevocably in love with her.

Sherlock had been amazed, although he should not have been, at his sister's ability to discern that Molly was pregnant, even though at this point there was no outward sign of it. She had also commented on the fact they were married, but that of course was not a difficult deduction. They had made no effort to hide their wedding rings.

Molly laid her head against Sherlock's shoulder. "I hope Eurus will enjoy watching our wedding DVD. I'm just so glad she got to be part of it in a way when we used the recording of you and her playing the violin together as our wedding recessional."

"I'm glad she was able to be part of our wedding as well," agreed Sherlock. "I am also hopeful that she will read the Bible we left for her. I hope she will follow our suggestion on what to read first. It certainly helped for me to not just start at the beginning and go through. I needed to know about Jesus in order to believe fully what the Bible had to say."

"I hope she reads it too. At least we can pray for her," responded Molly.

"That is true. Oh," he suddenly remembered something, "now that the news of your pregnancy has spread further, I think we should call my parents and your mum to give them the go ahead to tell the people at their churches our news. You know they are dying to do so."

Molly giggled. "You're right. I know Mum would have kept our secret another week as requested, but she was definitely anxious to let people know. I'll call her right now."

Two phone calls later, both Sherlock and Molly were smiling at the way both mothers had been excited that they could share the news after all. Sherlock had also taken the time to tell his mother that he and Molly had visited Eurus together and that she had deduced that Molly was pregnant. He also told her about the Bible they had given his sister, and Mrs. Holmes had been very pleased. She too was praying for her daughter to come to faith, even as she continued to pray for Mycroft.

Tasks accomplished, Sherlock sat back on the sofa and pulled Molly close. "So," he said, "I have not had the opportunity to kiss you in several hours. My lips feel somewhat neglected." He tilted Molly's chin upwards so her face was now only inches from his own.

Obligingly, she closed the remaining distance, and he enjoyed spending some time in non-verbal communication. Kissing was definitely something he would never tire of with Molly.

Finally their lips parted, and Molly said, "I think I'll go take a shower now. Afterwards we can do our devotional together and maybe some Bible reading."

"That sounds like a good idea," approved Sherlock. "While you're doing that, I think I shall read some more of your diary."

Molly stood, then swayed a little. Sherlock raised a hand to steady her.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern.

"I'm fine," Molly assured him. "I just got up too fast, and I'm feeling a little nauseous as usual."

"I'm sorry, love," responded Sherlock. "Would you prefer a bath where you can relax? I could get it ready for you."

Molly shook her head. "No, that's okay. You read the diary, and I will bring in the Bible and devotional when I get out of the shower."

"Well, if you're sure," he said slowly, still a little concerned.

She bent over and kissed him quickly. "Very sure. I'll be back in a bit."

After she had gone, Sherlock followed his usual routine of taking out his reading glasses and the diary, moving to his chair. Pencil ready, he began to read.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

 _ **February**_

 _Rosie's baptism was today. Yep, her name is Rosamund, which means "rose of the world". Isn't that a simply beautiful name? Mary said they would call her Rosie for short. When I was younger, I used to dream about what I'd name my children, if I had them. I remember loving the name Diana, because of Princess Diana. It's funny, for girls' names I never really thought of Biblical ones, but for boys' names I've always thought there are some good ones that are perhaps not quite so common - like Noah or Elijah. I suppose every little girl dreams about what they'd name their own children. I certainly wouldn't choose Enid. I really don't care for my middle name, even if it was in honour of the wonderful author, Enid Blyton. It's so old-fashioned. My initials spell MEH, which is one of those terms school kids like to use to describe a lack of enthusiasm. Oh well, at least Enid is only my middle name and nobody needs to know it. I like my first name, and don't tell anyone, but every time Sherlock says my name, it rolls off his tongue in a way that makes me want to melt. Ugh, there I go, talking about him AGAIN. If he ever saw this diary, he would probably think I am obsessed and a stalker._

 _Amazingly, Sherlock actually turned up at the baptism to be godfather. He was running a little late though, and the service was about to start. He also spent the time when we were standing up there during the baptism sacrament on his phone. It just goes to show how little he thinks of spiritual matters. In fact, I was a little cross with him. Can you believe that he didn't even know the baby's name was Rosamund? When the priest asked for her name and Mary gave it, Sherlock looked up from his phone in surprise and said, "Rosamund?" When I asked if he hadn't seen John's text about it, he made some ridiculous comment about deleting any text that begins with the word "Hi". I might be hopelessly in love with the man, but that doesn't mean I can't acknowledge the fact that he can be a total, oblivious bastard at times (excuse the swearing, but it's appropriate here). Sherlock continued to text while the priest was speaking, and finally I had to nudge him and hiss, "Phone" at him, so he would stop texting. Even then he put it behind his back and must've hit the button that activated Siri when I nudged him again after the priest asked if we were ready to help the parents fulfill their duties as Christian godparents. That question means something to me, even if it meant nothing to Sherlock, who was undoubtedly only interested in being there so he could get cake afterwards. It was most embarrassing to hear Siri go off like that in the middle of a church service. Honestly, if I didn't feel this strange distance between us lately, I would have told him off afterwards properly about that._

 _John and Mary held a little cake celebration at their flat afterwards. Believe me, I made the most of the opportunity to hold Rosie and look at that soft, sweet face. Babies are simply the most perfect part of creation, in my opinion. Just think, every baby has a unique genetic blueprint that contains the DNA of both the mother and the father. For me, the miracle of creation is the greatest evidence of the existence of God, whether it be a human being or an animal or nature itself. God's creation is all about us, and it is beautiful._

 _I spoke to Mrs Hudson a little at the Watsons' and she did tell me that Sherlock has been obsessively doing cases. That makes sense, given what Mary had said about him and John always being out on cases lately. Even during the "party", I barely said two words to Sherlock. He was too busy on his phone again. I did offer to get him a piece of cake and he accepted. He barely acknowledged me when I brought it over to him. I can't help but miss the way things were between us before, the camaraderie we shared. It's like he has withdrawn into himself, become so focussed on his work that he doesn't have time to think of dealing with people._

 _ **Now this was an interesting entry, where I discovered more about you, my darling. We shall have to keep those names in mind when it comes to thinking of baby names for our child. I do like Biblical names, especially Noah, having read the account of the ark and his faithfulness in building it.**_

 _ **I have no problem with your middle name, by the way. Enid Blyton was a fine author. I did have to grin when I read what you wrote about your initials. I'm sorry you didn't get to change your last name to one that would make for a better set of initials. I think it best we do not use middle names for our children which begin with vowels, at least for daughters. Talking of children reminds me of the fact that we have our own on the way, and it pleases me greatly. Will we have a little girl or boy, ah, the anticipation! Just hope it isn't twins...**_

 _ **Yes, you do seem a little obsessive, but fortunately it is a mutual obsession, even if at times I think you are more obsessed with my hair than anything else. But nobody could ever call you a stalker. Stalkers are people who follow someone around without their knowledge, not people who merely write about the person with whom they are in love. Funnily enough, you were never one to seek me out; it was always the other way around. Perhaps that should have been a sign for me earlier about my own feelings for you. The old adage of "hindsight is 20/20" is certainly accurate here. How I adore you, my sweet wife!**_

 _ **I'm a little embarrassed about the whole texting through the baptism scene. I remember I was in the middle of a conversation with a client at the time when I got to the church and anxious to continue working on it. I know, my priorities were definitely in error there. I am also ashamed I did not know Rosamund's name. I fully deserved your censure with that little sarcastic comment you made about human emotion. I'm a little surprised you didn't write the words here in your diary. You were right in that it was a strange time in our relationship. I was keeping my distance from you, as I said in my previous response to your last entry.**_

 _ **It seems like a lifetime since I was that man, rather than merely months, isn't that strange? Sherrinford was the beginning of the new me. Speaking of which, I'm so pleased we had the opportunity to visit Eurus today together. I am looking forward to finding out what she thinks of the Bible we gave her. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **March**_

 _I've just been glancing through my diary because I haven't written in it since last month, and I realised something. A diary is supposed to be where you pour all your thoughts, hopes and dreams for the future and even your everyday life. What I noticed as I was reading is that this diary is full of my one-sided attraction (well, love) for Sherlock. Writing about Sherlock dominates almost every entry. I've decided to label this diary "Diary if an Incurably Romantic Pathologist" because it seems all my romantic heart wants to do is write about him._

 _Anyway, the reason I am even writing today is that I brought my diary with me to the Watsons' place, as I am staying over for a couple days at John's request. It's all very mysterious. Mary left town suddenly, and Sherlock and John are going to bring her home. They were heading to the airport and didn't tell me where, and it was none of my business to ask. I wonder if she is experiencing postnatal depression and went off to stay with friends or relatives to get away for a while. I've heard some women can get severe postnatal depression. I would hope to never suffer from it, although the chances of me even becoming a mother at this point are rather remote._

 _I am having a wonderful time looking after Rosie, who I just put down for the night, but the more I look after her, feed her, change her, the more my maternal instincts kick in. Sometimes I wonder why God put this deep desire within me for a family if it was to remain a wish that will never be fulfilled. I know, it is wrong for me to assign any blame to God for having these feelings, but I can't help feeling hurt at times over things._

 _Every now and then I drift of into a daydream about what it would be like to have a baby with Sherlock. Is that a sin to think of that, to fantasise about having a child with him? I mean, it isn't like I've actually thought about what it would be like to ahem, have sex with him. I'm blushing just writing the word. To be honest, I never even thought about that with Tom. Vaguely in the back of my mind, obviously I knew it would happen once we were married, but I figured he would be the one to take the lead on things, having been with women before. I don't think the idea of sex even crosses Sherlock's mind as something more than an activity other people do. Of course there was his brief time with Janine, and I still don't know for sure whether he slept with her, despite his denial to me after I saw those tabloid articles. I certainly couldn't blame him if he did. I don't think non-Christians typically think much about the idea of abstinence before marriage. Okay, I really need to stop writing about sex or I will start having impure thoughts, and that would not be good. I think I'm going to go and have a sleep now anyway, seeing as Rosie is asleep. Babies don't typically sleep for long periods, so I had better try and get some rest. Goodnight, dear Diary, faithful friend in whom I can pour out the feelings I could never tell anyone else._

 _ **Ah, I see I need to explain to you completely about Mary. I'm sorry John and I could not explain anything at the time. Obviously it was part of her secret, and John and I could not reveal that to you. But here it goes. I don't see any reason to not tell you now exactly what happened. I told you about Mary being an assassin during our engagement, but I didn't tell you all the details about what happened around the time when you were looking after Rosie.**_

 _ **At that time I was working on a case I thought was related to Moriarty, thanks to that video image that was displayed all over England. Someone was smashing plaster busts of Margaret Thatcher. I was certain one of the busts contained the Black Pearl of the Borgias, the disappearance of which was of interest to Moriarty before his death, according to Mycroft. Incidentally, the whereabouts of that remains a mystery.**_

 _ **Anyway, I went to the location of the last plaster bust in order to catch the person responsible for smashing them. It turned out to be Ajay, an associate of Mary's, who had been with her at Tbilisi and was part of her special operations team, of which there were four members. She thought he had died, but he had been imprisoned and tortured for six years and finally escaped. He was under the misapprehension that Mary was the one who had betrayed their team, which as you know, was not her, but Lady Smallwood's secretary, Vivian Norbury. Ajay didn't know that and he planned revenge on Mary.**_

 _ **Why am am I writing all this down? Telling you would be much easier, oh well! To make a long story short, he was looking for his memory stick, which he had hidden in a plaster bust that had just been manufactured as a group of six in Tbilisi. Mary and the other members of her team also had one. These memory sticks contained everything about their real identities so that they could not betray one another. I'll tell you about what happened when I met up with Ajay some other time, but I did manage to take the memory stick and tell Mary about it.**_

 _ **When she knew Ajay was after her, she ran, incapacitating me and taking the memory stick with her. Fortunately, I had placed a tracer on the memory stick, anticipating such a reaction. All I needed to do was wait for her to stay in one place long enough so John and I could retrieve her. That turned out to be Marrakech, Morocco. When we got to her, Ajay had followed us, and he ended up being shot and killed by the police. With the scanty evidence I had accumulated over the identity of the betrayer of Mary's team, I thought it to be Lady Smallwood, but later realised my mistake. As you know, the night after we returned from Morocco, and you were babysitting Rosie, I went to confront Norbury at the aquarium.**_

 _ **I have not reached the point in the diary yet where you write about what happens, and I'm sure you shall do so, so I shall restrain myself from saying anything further on that for now. Instead, I will comment about what you said in regard to having children.**_

 _ **I do not believe it was sinful for you to imagine having a baby with me, and obviously, that was what God intended all along when he placed that desire in your heart. You just were aware of it before I was. As you have quoted to me before, Jeremiah 29:11 is very appropriate. God knows the plans he has for us. It is better for us to wait upon the Lord, and that is exactly what you did, my love. You waited for me to be ready and trusted God, even if you had your doubts about things. Now you see where that led for us. You were born to be a mother.**_

 _ **I found it rather amusing to see you writing about sex and your concern over having impure thoughts about me. At least you don't have to worry about that now. Nothing between us is impure or anything to be ashamed of because we have the blessing of God.**_

 _ **I must say though, it still makes me a little sad that you thought I may have lied to you about Janine. But, as I said in an earlier entry, at least you know now that I was never intimate with her, nor did I wish to be.**_

 _ **Ah, you are heading my way, perfect timing, I shall have you catch up with my responses as I take a shower. XOX**_

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Sherlock kept the diary open as he took off his reading glasses and stood. Molly set down the Bible and devotional then looked at him inquiringly. Her hair was still damp, but she had brushed it through and she was wearing his blue dressing down. _When do I start thinking of it as her dressing gown?_ he wondered to himself.

Aloud he said, "Why don't you catch up on my comments in your diary while I go take my shower? I think you'll find some interesting new information in it which I have not disclosed before."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "New information?"

"You'll see." He handed her the diary and then headed off to take his shower.

Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and shaved, wearing his tartan dressing gown for a change, after all he didn't want to always be predictable, he returned to the sitting room to see Molly had finished reading.

She looked up. "Where's your red dressing gown?" was her first question.

Sherlock shrugged and went to sit beside her. "I thought I'd give it a rest."

Molly laughed. "Well, the tartan one is nice, but I will always prefer the red one. Just for future reference," she said mischievously, tugging at his belt playfully.

"Stop it, Molly," he ordered. "So what did you think of what you read in the diary about Mary?"

"When I could decipher your writing," she said in a teasing voice, and he had to grin, because he had indeed been writing very fast in his usual scrawl, "I found it extremely interesting." She looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, I had not thought about the way the whole Norbury stuff happened because of you trying to help Mary. I have some thoughts on that, but I will keep them to myself until you've actually seen what I write about that day. But thank you for enlightening me. At least now I know why you and John were away for a couple of days. I really feel for poor Mary. She must've been so terrified."

Sherlock pouted. "Don't you think it was clever of me to put the tracker on the memory stick instead of chasing her all over the globe?"

Molly moved to sit on Sherlock's lap and slipped her hand beneath his dressing gown to curl it at his waist, moving her fingers in a slightly circular motion. "Brilliant, my love." She gave him a seductive glance through her eyelashes.

"Molly, aren't we going to read our devotional and do our Bible reading before we move onto other things?" he enquired, raising an eyebrow. "What has got into you?"

Her hand stopped its movement. "It was reading your comments about how I need not worry anymore about having impure thoughts about you. I'm thinking I am definitely having some...thoughts right now. Guess they must not be impure because you're my husband." Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers and curved towards his bum.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Holmes?" he enquired, feeling the heat rise within him as it always did. His own hands moved to the belt of her dressing gown and unfastened it so he could glimpse the lingerie beneath. Oh, it was the daringly low cut teddy from their honeymoon. His wife was entirely too sexy.

She gave him an impish grin as he began to place his hands along her own curves. "As you've told me yourself, husband dear, it's not a seduction when both parties are in agreement about what is to happen."

His wife was entirely too logical as well, Sherlock thought, conceding that it was still early enough to have a lovely time of pure bliss with his wife as well as do their nightly reading. Perhaps there would even be time afterwards for round two as often happened.

His lips met Molly's in a searing kiss of promise, and she uttered a soft sigh of pleasure, knowing she was the winner this time, and that he was putty in her hands. But then again, they were both winners anyway.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Time is marching onwards in the diary towards the unfortunate events at the end of TST. What did you think of Sherlock explaining to Molly via the diary about that time period after Mary left? It's always interesting to think about how it would have looked to others with Mary just disappearing. Do you have your own ideas on that?

Before I return to the diary, I will be publishing a one-shot that begins the day after this one. It is called _Sherlock and the Mouse_. So stand by for that one - it has been languishing on my iPad since September 2018.

Would love to see more follows/favourites and feedback.


	20. Mary's Death & Ethical Discussion

**Thursday, September 28th, 2017**

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the flat quietly at around two o'clock in the afternoon, knowing Molly would be asleep.

He'd spent a couple busy days investigating a murder in Boscombe Valley, Herefordshire. That had entailed more travel than he would have liked.

It was fortunate though that Molly was on night shift, he reflected. That had made spending the two nights away easier, knowing she would not have been in bed beside him at home, anyway.

Sherlock had seen the desperate email from young Alice Turner on Monday. Her email had said that a dear friend of hers was being accused of the murder of his father, and that she was certain he was innocent, and would Sherlock Holmes please come to Boscombe Valley in Herefordshire to find out the truth and exonerate her friend? Her desperation and the fact that Sherlock knew he had no pressing cases and would not be seeing very much of Molly over the next few days, made his decision easy, pending his wife's approval. Besides, murder cases were always the most interesting ones to tackle.

After discussing it with Molly and obtaining her opinion and consent for him to take the case, Sherlock had contacted John and arranged for him to come along. He had checked the train schedule and made plans to leave on Tuesday.

The case itself hadn't been particularly difficult. He had read the statement of James McCarthy and was certain the lad was telling the truth. Based on some clues which the young man provided, Sherlock was able to ascertain that the real culprit was the young woman, Alice's, father, John Turner.

Mr. Turner was suffering from diabetes and did not have long to live. Upon being confronted by Sherlock and John, he had explained that Mr. McCarthy had been blackmailing him for years over some things he had done in his youth in Australia when they both lived in Ballarat. Feeling pity for the dying man, Sherlock extracted a written confession but promised to not reveal it to authorities unless the young man was convicted of the crime. Sherlock provided some objections to the authorities which cast doubt on James McCarthy's guilt which included the fact that the killing blow from the rock had undoubtedly come from a left-handed man, and James was right-handed, and he was certain the youth would be exonerated. Revealing the confession of Alice Turner's father would most likely be unnecessary, and she would be spared the heartbreak of knowing what her father had done.

Sherlock and John had arrived back in London before lunchtime, and John had picked up Rosie. The three of them had gone out for lunch together and then parted ways. Sherlock had enjoyed the time with his friend and goddaughter as well.

All in all, it had been a nice diversion for a couple of days. At the same time, Sherlock had missed Molly terribly. It had been their first separation since their marriage, and he needed to go to her. Evening FaceTime conversations and texting, while better than nothing, were definitely no compensation for the real thing. He quietly walked into the bedroom and undressed, then slid into bed beside his wife.

Sensing his presence, most likely feeling the bed dip beneath his weight, Molly moved to turn and face him and opened her eyes. "You're home," she commented sleepily.

"I'm home," confirmed Sherlock, reaching a hand to touch the silken fabric of her chemise. Apparently she didn't like to sleep naked when she was alone. Well, she probably felt warmer when he wasn't beside her providing his own body heat.

She blinked, then focussed on him properly. "I missed you, you know," she remarked, moving a hand to touch his side.

Sherlock chuckled. "Indeed? And here I was, thinking you hadn't noticed my absence."

"Silly man." Molly moved closer to press her body against his. "So, now that you're home, what are you going to do about it?"

Sherlock feigned innocence. "Do about what?"

Molly's hand dipped lower, to a certain part of his anatomy which he could not control. He couldn't help his response. It had been days, after all. "That," she responded, leaving him in no doubt by her bold actions to what she referred.

Sherlock took possession of her mouth, kissing her possessively in a way he had been longing to do for days. His own hands pulled at the chemise then, tugging it upwards so he could feel Molly's chest against his. Oh yes, he'd definitely missed her sweet breasts as well, he thought, caressing one, then the other.

For some time they concentrated on their love for one another and making up for the lost days, emerging satisfyingly out of breath with perspiration-dampened skin.

Molly fell back asleep almost immediately, but Sherlock lay there for some time in satiated bliss with his arm around her shoulders as she nestled into him, thinking he'd have to go away for a couple days more often if the reunion was always this passionate.

The initial fatigue passed, and he decided to get up, sliding his arm carefully out from where he was holding Molly. She made a little sigh in her sleep but did not awaken.

Sherlock dressed again and headed into the sitting room, deciding he'd read some more of Molly's diary. He hadn't touched it since the previous Saturday. He was both interested and fearful to read about what he knew was coming - her thoughts on Mary's death.

Almost reluctantly, he picked up the diary and followed his usual routine of putting on his reading glasses, then began to read.

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

 _ **March**_

 _Just a quick entry this time. Sherlock and John came back, and Mary was with them, thankfully. None of them offered an explanation as to where Mary had been and why, but that was okay. I enjoyed my time with darling little Rosie. She is so precious, even if she is not the best sleeper. I'm going to go take a nap now and catch up on some of the sleep I missed while babysitting!_

 _ **As I explained in my comment on your previous entry, you now know where Mary was hiding, so I need not address this entry further. Not looking forward to what comes next. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **March**_

 _Oh, dear God. I don't know how to write this. So much has happened since I wrote the last entry earlier today. I feel like I'm in a nightmare._

 _Mary Watson is dead. Oh, I need another tissue._

 _Okay, back again. I'll try to put things down as I remember them and start from the beginning._

 _I was still napping when I heard my phone ring at about four-thirty. It was John, asking if I could babysit again because it was an emergency - Mrs. Hudson isn't getting back from her holiday in Corfu until tomorrow, which is why I was asked to look after Rosie when John and Sherlock left town. This time, apparently, Sherlock needed both John and Mary to go to the London Aquarium to meet him. John said that Sherlock was about to solve a big case. Anyway, of course I said I'd be right over._

 _When I got there, Mary was already gone, and John handed me the bottle he'd been feeding Rosie, saying they probably wouldn't be long. He said Sherlock most likely just wanted an audience for his latest brilliant deductions._

 _Anyway, I was quite surprised when time ticked by with no word from John or Mary. It was around eight o'clock when John came back without Mary._

 _That's when he told me that Mary was dead. He said she had been shot accidentally. But here's the worst of it. John told me that Sherlock was responsible for it, that he was the reason Mary was dead. I asked him what he meant by that, and he refused to explain, just said over and over that Sherlock had made a vow to protect Mary and that he had broken it and allowed her to die. I know John was grief stricken, but I am sure whatever happened was out of Sherlock's control. I offered to stay longer with Rosie, but John told me to go. I also told him if he needed my help with anything to just let me know. He seemed at least grateful for that. I think I need to text Sherlock and see if he'll tell me what happened._

 _ **I admit, I did want to show off a little. That was my first error that evening. I wanted Mary to see who was responsible for betraying her team, by having Vivian Norbury confess. To this day, I will regret my actions in asking Mary and John to come. I should have just let Lestrade handle the arrest and testified in court instead of trying to play the hero. Of course, hindsight is 20/20 as they say. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **March (next day)**_

 _I still feel like I'm in some kind of nightmare from which I can't wake up. To think of Mary being gone forever and poor motherless little Rosie, not to mention heartbroken John, just makes my heart ache._

 _But my heart aches also for Sherlock. I did text him and asked him what happened and why John was blaming him for Mary's death. All he texted back to me was that John was right, it was his fault. That's all. I asked if he would explain further, but he didn't answer my text._

 _I feel so helpless. I wish I could go to Baker Street and demand an explanation for what happened, but, even though I think by now Sherlock and I are quite good friends, I feel it would be over-stepping. So for now, I guess I will just stick to praying about the situation. I hope that John will get over his anger with Sherlock quickly, or it could make for an awkward time at the funeral. Heading over to John's in a little while to help with arrangements._

 _I'll write more later._

 _ **Oh, my darling, I know you understand now the guilt I felt over what happened, but it is more than that. I was afraid to tell you. I was afraid if I explained what happened, you would think less of me for acting so arrogant. I was ashamed by my actions. Also, knowing how well you can see me, the real me, if I had told you what happened, I undoubtedly would have felt obliged to explain the circumstances that led to me confronting Norbury in that place, and of course I didn't feel I could reveal Mary's secrets at that time about her past. John wasn't talking to me, so I could hardly ask his permission, and I certainly did not wish to make matters worse between him and myself. Not that they could've really been much worse than they actually were. XOX**_

* * *

 _ **(Same evening.**_ )

 _Back home again. John has made a list with phone numbers of people to contact about Mary's death and inform them of the funeral details._

 _Mycroft, surprisingly, offered to take care of the details and has booked the same church in which Rosie was baptised a few weeks ago._

 _I called work and asked for the day of the funeral off and the day following as well. Mike was very accommodating, despite the short notice, thankfully. Of course, I do have many days of leave accumulated, but usually we have to apply for them well in advance to make sure they don't conflict with anyone else's leave requests._

 _I'm about to start calling people on the list John gave me to let them know about Mary and the funeral details. The official word is that Mary was involved in a fatal accident. Hopefully, people won't ask me to elaborate, but if they do, I will be able to truthfully say I don't know the details. Two things I've noticed. Sherlock's name is not on the list and sadly, I'm sure that's deliberate on John's part. Mrs. Hudson's name is there though, so I'll tell her and put in a quiet word that she should let Sherlock know. The other thing is Janine's name is on the list as well because she was one of Mary's friends. I don't look forward to talking with her. Every time I think of her, I feel jealous that she was with Sherlock romantically. I guess that is always going to hurt, even with him stating to me he was only with her because of a case. She was Magnussen's assistant, apparently. Oh - what if she was the one who shot Sherlock out of spite, in finding out he had ulterior motives for going out with her? No, I'm sure he would have told me if that had been the case. I'd better get on to getting things done now. Will try to write more later._

 _ **Ah, once again I am finding out something I was not aware of before. I did not know you were the one to make the phone calls to let people know about Mary. How kind of you it was to take that burden from John, although it does not surprise me in the least. I never even thought about Janine being invited to attend the funeral. I did not see her there, perhaps I just missed her in the crowd? I have to laugh about your theory that she might have been the one to shoot me. I suppose that is why you dreamed you had told people that in that friends with benefits one.**_

 _ **As for Mycroft, he did try to tell me what had happened was not my fault, before he sent me back to Baker Street in his limo. He was being kind to me, but I was not in the mood to be comforted. He also mentioned that he would take care of everything in regard to arranging things for a funeral service. Bearing that in mind, I later sent him some information on coffins that I had researched. As Mycroft took care of actually purchasing the coffin, this was something I never revealed to John. I just felt that I had to do something to help, even if John didn't know about it. In fact, it was that research which helped me to make deductions about the coffin that was meant for you at Sherrinford. Ironic, isn't it? XOX**_

* * *

 _ **(Later the same night)**_

 _Well, I managed to make my way through the list. When I called Greg, he informed me he had been at the aquarium when the incident happened. Unfortunately, he wouldn't tell me what happened either, so I just told him about the funeral details and left it at that. It's such a mystery, and one I suppose I'll have to resign myself to not knowing the details of. When I called Mrs. Hudson, she told me she already knew what had happened, that Sherlock had told her when she arrived home from her holiday with her sister in Corfu earlier in the day. I would have loved to ask her about her trip, but it wasn't the right time for that. I told her about the funeral details and asked her to tell Sherlock. Then I asked if she knew why John blamed Sherlock for Mary's death. She very kindly told me that she did, but it was not her place to explain the details. If Sherlock wanted me to know, he would tell me. I did feel hurt about that, not that Sherlock had told her, but because he felt he could tell her but not me. It makes me second guess our friendship and whether it is as close of one as I had thought._

 _Oh, and in my last entry, I was talking about having to ring Janine. Well, I did it and actually spoke with her. Unsurprisingly, she only vaguely remembered who I was from John's wedding when I explained I was in the dress with the floral yellow print. It wasn't like we had spoken before. Anyway, she was rather shocked to hear about Mary but said unfortunately she would be unable to attend the funeral. Apparently she bought a cottage in Sussex Downs and won't be able to make it back to London for the funeral. I must admit, I'm glad I won't have to see her at the funeral because I will just start making comparisons between her and myself, and I will undoubtedly feel inadequate._

 _Anyway, I've written enough for now. Time to head for the shower and bed. I hope I sleep better than I did last night._

 _ **Ah yes, Greg Lestrade was witness to my folly that night, although he has never in any way made me feel as if I was to blame. He really is a good man.**_

 _ **I had to tell Mrs. Hudson the whole story; you know what she is like. She too tried to tell me it wasn't my fault. Actually, come to think of it, the only person who did hold me responsible was John himself. But it was enough to make me hold myself responsible as well. I already explained why I couldn't tell you, and it was certainly not that you meant less to me than Mrs. Hudson. Far from it, you meant so much more.**_

 _ **Yet another tidbit of information I did not know before. So that is how you knew Janine had bought a cottage? I didn't really think about it at the time when I told you about seeing her in London a few weeks before we were married. I am so relieved I had the opportunity to apologise to her, and that she was not overly hurt by my actions.**_

 _ **I suppose I shall leave this for now. I feel I'd like to spend some more time with the real you mow, rather than your diary. Reading about the funeral, which I'm sure you will write about, can wait. XOX**_

…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Sherlock closed the diary and put it away, along with his glasses, under the coffee table. He was getting better at remembering to do that, he reflected, rather proudly.

Idly he wondered how things might have been different if he had not called Mary and John to the London Aquarium for the "show". Would things have turned out differently? Then he had another, more sobering thought. What if he had decided to show off to Molly about things instead? If things had been different between them, if he had confided in her more regularly, would he have wanted her to witness his moment of triumph, to impress her?

The land of "what if" beckoned its siren call once more, as Sherlock returned to the bedroom to join Molly as he had done earlier.

He undressed again and slid under the covers to hold her close against him. A horrifying thought suddenly hit him. What if Molly had come to the aquarium and had been shot instead of Mary?

His hold on her tightened and she stirred, turned inwards, then opened her luminous brown eyes. "Honey? What has you so tense?"

"Molly, I was reading your diary. All the events surrounding Mary's death sent me into the land of 'what if', and I thought of how terrible it would have been if you had been there at the aquarium instead of Mary. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, feeling the sudden burn of tears behind his eyes and a lump in his throat.

Molly raised herself up on one elbow to look at him properly. "Sherlock, this is definitely not a productive 'what if', scenario. There is no point in thinking about what horrible things might have happened. Instead, think of the wonderful things God has given us, how He has protected and saved you time and time again. God has a plan for us. Look at all those validations we discovered for our love during our engagement. God made us for one another. He would not have taken me away from you when He invested so much time in keeping you safe over the years. Remember Jeremiah 29:11. It's probably one of my favourite Bible verses."

Sherlock raised his hand to stroke Molly's cheek gently. "You're right, sweetheart. God knows the plans he has for us, so I should not be always trying to discover them for myself and second-guessing things. I should probably let you go back to sleep."

Molly stretched a little, then said, "Actually, I have had enough sleep. I went to bed almost as soon as I got home from work this morning. I didn't want to spend all day sleeping when I knew you'd be coming home this afternoon, so I'm wide awake now. However," here she gave him a rather cheeky, dimpled grin, "if you would like to do a little more _catching up_ on things before we get out of bed, I would have no objections."

Sherlock smiled. Molly knew him all too well, even though they hadn't yet been married for two months. He pulled her closer, wondering how long this "honeymoon" period was supposed to last. His desire for her seemed to be endless. His lips found hers, and he tasted the delights of her sweet nectar, exulting in the joy they provided for one another.

Later, as they ate dinner, Sherlock told Molly about the case he had just completed, and how he had decided not to reveal the man's guilt to the authorities. "Do you think it was wrong of me to do that?" he asked, suddenly wondering whether he had done the right thing. He was supposed to discover the truth and bring criminals to justice, after all, as a detective.

Molly pondered that for a moment. "That's such a tough one to answer from an ethical standpoint. Yes, the man did wrong, but the other man was a nasty piece of work. Mr. Turner is already dying, and you were trying to spare his daughter heartache, so revealing him as the killer wouldn't really accomplish a lot in the long run, if young McCarthy is absolved of the crime. Plus, you have a signed confession just in case that doesn't happen. Mr. Turner will soon be answerable to God anyway if he is dying." She reached over and took his hand. "Besides, you were given another chance to redeem yourself after what happened with Magnussen, who was another evil man. God uses all our experiences, good and bad, to work together for good, if we trust in Him."

Sherlock smiled. "As it happens, I did tell Mr. Turner that soon he would have to answer for his deeds to a higher court than this one. I think he understood."

Molly nodded. "Then you have also planted a seed that may lead him to repentance. Who knows? That's all we can do. Your mercy may end up being what leads him to seek God for himself before it is too late. There are a couple verses in Ephesians that are good to remember, to show love to one another, and I think showing mercy is a way of doing that. Let me see if I can recall the verses." She pondered for a moment, then exclaimed, "Oh, that's it. It's the first two verses in Ephesians Five. 'Follow God's example, therefore, as dearly loved children, and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.'"

Sherlock squeezed her hand. "Thanks for your insight, sweetheart."

They spent the rest of the evening together, just enjoying being in one another's presence again. Together they had some fun, watching comedy clips on YouTube. Molly told Sherlock that her friend Kaitlyn had recommended looking at clips from an old American comedy called I Love Lucy, which was in black-and-white, especially one with a grape stomping scene. Both Sherlock and Molly found the clip to be highly amusing. There was another one with Lucy and her friend Ethel trying to wrap pieces of chocolate that were being sent along a conveyor belt to be boxed. Very soon, the women were unable to keep up with the chocolates being sent along the conveyor line. Having been told that if any unwrapped chocolates made it to the packing room they would be fired, the women found an inventive way of dealing with the excess chocolates, eating them, pulling them off the belt and then hiding the excess in their hats and blouses when their boss came back to inspect their work. Naturally, not seeing any chocolate still on the belt, she assumed they were doing a fine job and yelled at the people in the other room operating the conveyor belt to "speed it up" as Lucy and Ethel, mouths crammed full of chocolate looked at one another in despair.

Sherlock and Molly found themselves in gales of laughter over this, to the extent that Mrs. Hudson knocked on the front door and entered, asking what all the commotion was. When the couple explained things, the elderly woman invited herself to stay and enjoy herself as well for a short time before heading back downstairs at around ten o'clock, saying it was past her bedtime and could they please keep their laughter to a minimum from that point so she could sleep undisturbed?

So, Sherlock and Molly contented themselves instead with watching another episode of _Downton Abbey,_ which they had begun watching during their engagement and had not watched since they had been married. There was definitely not much to laugh about in that show, although Molly continued to enthuse about Matthew and how good-looking he was, much to Sherlock's pique.

After another annoying comment by Molly, Sherlock pouted and said gruffly, "If he's so hot with that blonde hair, why did you marry me?"

Molly tugged at one of his curls playfully. "Oh, he doesn't have your lovely curls."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He was about to threaten to cut his curls off, but Molly pulled him towards her and said silkily, "Besides, you are the total package, Sherlock Holmes, in so much more than the looks department, including your prowess in the bedroom." Then she placed her arms around him and kissed him in a way that reinforced her words. It was too bad, Sherlock reflected after the kiss, that Molly had to get ready for work, or he might have swept her off into the bedroom to show off that prowess for the third time that day which she claimed was part of the total package.

After Molly had left for work, Sherlock thought about the day that had just ended. It had been so full, and the afternoon and evening had been so enjoyable with Molly. His life held so much more meaning with her in it. Then his thoughts turned to those diary entries and his own sobering "what if" thoughts of earlier. His last thought before he drifted off was to think of how devastating it would have been for him if Molly had been shot at the hands of Vivian Norbury. Would events like that have caused him to realise his feelings for her sooner, if he was faced with losing her?

Those final thoughts led to a dream of what might have happened if that had been the case.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Quite a busy chapter here! If you wish to read the ACD Boscombe Valley Mystery, you can find it online. The comment about Mr. Turner being answerable to a higher court than himself is ACD canon and one of the reasons I am certain classic Sherlock believed in God, and why it was not a stretch for me to bring modern Sherlock into line with that thinking, although of course I took it the next step to have him become a Christian believer.

What did you think of the diary events in this chapter - the revelation about Sherlock's coffin knowledge being because of Mary's death, leading to that "lonely night on Google" quip by John at Sherrinford? Did you enjoy the additional information about Molly notifying people, in particular, Janine? Did you agree with Molly's reassurance that Sherlock did the right thing in letting Turner go without punishment? It is consistent with canon, and classic Sherlock Holmes did that on several occasions when he felt a criminal's actions were justified.

Have you ever seen those _I Love Lucy_ episodes? If you are spending a lot of time at home right now, as most of us are with the pandemic situation, you can find some _I Love Lucy_ scenes on YouTube. We could all use more laughter in our lives right now.

I will publish the dream, _Confronting Evil and the Truth_ , before the next diary chapter, but it may be a little while, as I am currently writing another dream story that happens as a result of my next COVID-19 installment. It will probably be a fairly short dream, but I need to keep writing it to discover its length.

For now though, keep well and safe, and don't forget to hit those follow, favourite buttons, and to bless me with your comments on this chapter. If you don't know what to say in a comment, you can always answer the questions I have posed. While we practice social distancing in real life, we can practice social community online, and get to know one another better.


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